


you open your mouth, i'm hypnotized

by bluesey



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, band au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesey/pseuds/bluesey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of tumblr prompts</p><p>#12: hunger games au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. setting fire to our insides for fun

**Author's Note:**

> anon: can you do lucaya at a college party or something and maya gets jealous bc she sees lucas with another girl??

If there’s anyone to blame, it’s herself. 

 _She’s_  the one who accepted the invitation from that over-polished frat boy.  _She’s_  the one who brought it up in the group chat between her, Zay, and Lucas, who then brought it up to Farkle and Riley. _She’s_ the one who persuaded everyone, which miraculously included Riley, to go with her. And  _she’s_  the one who told them not to bother her while she got completely shit faced to forget about the strenuous week of finals she just barely managed to survive.   
  
So really there should be no reason as to why she’s so fucking angry at Lucas for talking to that one girl in her art class because she  _did_  tell them to come and she  _did_ tell the not to get in her way. Everything leading up to that point, she thinks, is her doing. So she has completely no right to feel jealous. Obviously.   
  
Yet, somehow, she managed to be just that. 

“Damn, girl.” Maya jumps slightly at Zay’s voice. He’s holding a red solo cup in one hand and a sandwich in the other. “What’s with the death stare? Which unlucky bastard here is on your hit list tonight?”  
  
“Sundance. He’s number one on my hit list, always,” she replies without looking away from the topic of conversation, because Amy Sanders has her hand on his arm and it makes her feel sick. She blames the alcohol.    
  
“Ah, of course. What’d he do this time?” His voice is slightly slurred when he speaks and Maya wonders how many beers he’s had so far. They literally arrived half an hour ago.   
  
“Do I need a reason to want to kill him?” she asks. “His existence should be justification enough.”  
  
Zay laughs then, nudges his shoulder against hers, the beer sloshing dangerously close to the lip of the cup. “It’s so cute how in love with him you are that you’d use sarcasm and hostility to cover it up, but you’re really just all talk - ”  
  
Maya snatches the collar of his shirt and shoves him against the wall. No one even bats an eye; a kid in her math class passes by and pats her shoulder in greeting, nods his head at Zay, and goes on his way. “Does this  _look_ like all talk to you?”  
  
Zay rolls his eyes, completely unperturbed by her antics at this point. He’s lost count on how many times he’s been in this position with Maya before, since it’s becoming more of a daily thing now, with him opening his big mouth and all.   
  
“How terrible for you that Lucas is too preoccupied at the moment to come bail you out this time, Babineaux.” Her eyes are sparkling underneath the dull lamp light, her smile as cutting as a sharpened knife.   
  
“Listen, I’m not gonna say somethin’ to him about your little crush and all, since I value my health and potential prosperity, but you  _gotta_ do somethin’ about the looks you been givin’ him, man. He’d be a goddamn dumbass not to notice.”  
  
“Well then he’s a goddamn dumbass,” she grumbles, frustrated, more at herself than anything. She slowly loosens her fist from his shirt, pats his chest and gives him a smile. “Sorry, Bubba. That’s a nice shirt.”  
  
“Thanks,” he says dryly. “Now I'ma have to iron it.”  
  
Maya chances a glance in Lucas’ direction to see that he’s filling up Amy Sanders’ cup for her (because apparently she’s suddenly lost the capability to do it  _herself_?) and her hip is a little too close to his. Maya doesn’t like it. Maya’s going to do something about it.   
  
Pulling all of her courage together, she marches over to where Lucas is and just as she’s about to open her mouth and shout a nickname - whichever one happens to fall from her tongue at that moment in time - someone grabs her wrist and pulls her back.   
  
“ _Fuck_ \- what the f - ”  
  
“Maya, I need your help - ”  
  
There’s a wild look in Riley’s eyes, something like desperation, when she turns around to face her. Her hand is still gripped tight around Maya’s wrist and she’s starting to think something’s really really wrong until -   
  
“I think I wanna kiss Charlie Gardner, but somehow – I think it might’ve been the peach schnapps I had earlier – I ended up kissing Farkle, and I really liked it, Maya, but I also really think I wanna kiss Charlie Gardner - Maya, what should I do? Should I kiss Charlie? Or Farkle?”  
  
Maya breathes out an exasperated sigh. Is this honestly what Riley is worried about at the moment? Amy Sanders is probably trying to stick her hand down Huckleberry’s pants and Riley needs her help because  _she can’t decide which guy she wants to make out with?_  Jesus. The stuff you gotta do for the people you love.   
  
“Slow down and breathe, Riles, this isn’t a big deal,” Maya begins, putting her hands on her shoulders. “All you have to do is kiss both of them and see who you like better.”  
  
“And if I like both?”  
  
“Then you like both.”  
  
“Well what do I do then?”  
  
“Riley, you’re eighteen years old,” she tells her best friend, maintaining eye contact so she knows she’s serious. “Don’t worry about who you’re gonna end up with in the long run; just enjoy tonight, right now, and say  _fuck it_. The night is young and so are you, so kiss two boys - who gives a shit anyway? It’s a  _party_. Stop stressing and overanalyzing every little thing and live a little, would ya?”  
  
Riley grins, her shoulders sagging in relief. “You always know the right thing to say, Maya. I might not listen to you - and I probably won’t because I literally cannot stop stressing out over everything so easily like you do - but you always make me feel better.”  
  
“Good. Now go get ‘em, tiger,” Maya replies with a definitive nod.   
  
Riley salutes her before turning on her heel, headed straight for Charlie Gardner, who’s seated on the couch with a beer bottle balanced on his knee. Maya watches as his face lights up once he sees Riley walking over to where he is, and she can’t help but smile. But then she remembers what she was going to do before she got interrupted.   
  
Maya spins around once again,  _Ranger Rick_  on the tip of her tongue, before she notices that he isn’t in the kitchen anymore. Neither is Amy Sanders.   
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck -” she mutters under her breath, her heart in her stomach. “ _Fuck_ , I’m too late.”  
  
Scenarios play on a loop inside her head: Amy pushing Lucas up against the wall, Amy with her mouth on his neck, Lucas with his arms around her waist. It starts to make her feel a little dizzy, and dry in the mouth, so she grabs a tequila shot that’s sitting on the kitchen counter and downs it dry before stumbling out of there.   
  
She sees Riley and Charlie making out on the couch as she passes them, sees Farkle showing a magic trick to a couple of kids that look like they could be freshmen who managed to sneak in somehow, sees Zay chugging down a beer while simultaneously pirouetting on the coffee table. But she doesn’t see Lucas anywhere inside, which means that he must be upstairs somewhere, locked in one of the bedrooms with some kid’s mother’s family picture on her vanity desk as he fucks the girl from her art class. Her head spins again.   
  
Maya steps outside in the backyard, welcoming the harsh winter breeze rustling her skirt around bare legs. Some kid started a bonfire not too long ago so she sits on a beach chair beside it, accepting a marshmallow when someone hands it to her. She didn’t know that it was even possible to chew a marshmallow miserably, but here she is.   
  
She doesn’t bother looking up when someone plants himself next to her a few minutes later. “Why so glum, chum?”  
  
“Ugh, such a Huckleberry thing to say,” she mumbles in blatant disgust, like it actually leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but then something clicks in her mind and she whips her head around to see - “Huckleberry!”  
  
Lucas grins at her expression, seeing the mixture of elation and confusion on her face in equal degrees. “The one and only. Who’d you think it was?”  
  
Maya shrugs, seemingly casual despite the rapid pace of her heartbeat. She slumps in her chair and slings her arm around the back. The picture of indifference. She’s got this. “So what are you doing here? I thought you were with that one girl - ah, her name escapes me.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “You know her name, Maya.”  
  
“Okay. Fine. What happened to Carmen?”  
  
“Maya.”  
  
“Shoot, that’s not her name. Macy, was it? No…that’s not it either…” She acts like she’s mulling it over in her mind, her finger on her chin, eyes squinted in concentration. But then she clicks her tongue. “I’ll get it eventually.”  
  
“You are so full of shit.”  
  
She grins up at him and pops another marshmallow into her mouth. “This you should already know.”  
  
“Trust me, I do,” he answers. The fire makes his hair golden, and she wonders how warm his skin must feel under her fingertips, how soft the material of his shirt would be under her cheek. If she wanted to, she could slide under his arm right now - he would be confused at first, but he wouldn’t mind. She knows he wouldn’t mind. But she stays on her side, and he stays on his. “And to answer your question, she wanted to hook up.”  
  
“Who says ‘hook up’ anymore, Jesus, you are such a huckleberry, I should probably start calling you grandpappy instead because you are so fucking ancient - ”  
  
“But I didn’t want to. She wanted to, but I…didn’t.”  
  
The tone in his voice makes her stop her rambling, makes her gaze flicker to his, only to see that he’s been looking at her, probably for a long time now. He does that a lot, she’s been noticing. Maya swallows what feels like a lump of coal in her throat. “Why? She’s pretty. She likes art. She has a tattoo of a safety pin on her shoulder blade. She’s Amy Sanders.”  
  
Lucas shrugs as he looks away from her, finally, to look at the fire instead. “I already know a pretty girl who likes art and has weird tattoos on her body. I don’t need another one.”  
  
“Hey! My locket tattoo is  _not_ weird - ”  
  
He’s grinning when he looks back at her. “I know. I was kidding.”  
  
There’s a quiet pause then, where the only thing she can hear is the fire crackling and the blood rushing in her ears. She takes a deep breath. “You think I’m pretty?”  
  
“I think you’re beautiful. I think you know that I think that you’re beautiful.”  
  
“I didn’t, actually. Thanks for telling me.”  
  
“You had to know, Maya.” His voice is soft now, and she has to strain to hear him. “There’s no way you didn’t know.”  
  
“Lucas, I – “ She’s never seen his head whip around so fast when she’s called his name before and she wants to tell him so badly, about her stupid goddamn crush on him – maybe he’ll even like her back. Maybe they’ll ride away into the sunset together on a white horse. Maybe something good will finally happen – she laughs to herself then because when has _anything_ ever turned out right for Maya Hart? Hope is for goddamn suckers. She’ll stay quiet. “Never mind.”  
  
“What is it?” he asks, and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking.   
  
Maya doesn’t look at him, just keeps her gaze focused on the fire in front of her. “Nothing. It’s not important.”  
  
She doesn’t think he’s going to respond because he’s silent for a long time. But then his fingers are underneath her chin, tilting her head in his direction so she can look at his face, and she really wants to ask Farkle if lack of oxygen is a thing that she should be concerned about at frat parties.   
  
“Don’t do that, Maya,” he says. She hates the way he says her name. “Don’t shut me out every time we – “  
  
“Every time we what?” Maya really hopes he didn’t hear the cracks in her voice.   
  
Lucas purses his lips, his eyes tracing every line on her face until she’s sure he can read every thought she’s ever had. “Nothing. It’s not important, apparently.”  
  
And she’s so tired of this game they keep on playing, running in circles around each other, stepping back and creating distance when the fear of rejection presents itself. It’s an ugly thing, a frightening thing.   
  
Sometimes she thinks he may like her back, when it’s just the two of them at Topanga’s and he tells her stories about when he was a kid and she finds new ways to make fun of him, and he  _lets_ her. Or when they’re studying for an exam in her dorm and the thunder storm shakes the whole building and the lightening makes everything look like its on fire and she’s fucking terrified - but he rubs her back and she lets him hold her hand for a little while she tells him about Aurora Borealis and how golden Riley looks after five-thirty. It makes her think that there actually is something  _there_. That it might not just be all in her head.  
  
But then he just – he just steps back. And she doesn’t know  _why_. So maybe she’s the problem. Lucas Friar just does not like Maya Hart like that, and that’s all there is to it. She should move on.   
  
So she rolls her eyes in response. “You’re so goddamn annoying, Huckleberry, has anyone ever told you that?”  
  
“You,” he answers. She didn’t realize how close he was before until he sits back in his chair, creating distance between them. He’s really good at doing that. “For five years of my life.”  
  
Maya smirks, the ache in her chest intensifying as she leans close to him. “And hopefully for many more years – all the way until we’re old and rotting and in our death bed and I get to roast your pasty ass one last time.”  
  
“Great. Awesome. Fantastic.”  
  
“Don’t act like you aren’t excited about it.” It’s funny, she thinks, how easy it is to pretend she’s okay. How easy it is to make it seem like he’s not one of the most important people in her entire life. He must be really fucking stupid.   
  
“I’m thrilled, really,” he says to her, and then smirks, snatching her wrist just as she’s about to pop a marshmallow into her mouth. He leans forward and grabs the marshmallow with his teeth, the edge of his lips skimming her fingers and she’s losing her goddamn  _mind_. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life listening to you try to make fun of me with a fucking  _pathetic_ excuse of aTexas accent. Honestly. I live for it.”  
  
She hears the sarcasm in his voice, knows he’s only playing along. But there’s always going to be something in her that just can’t help but  _hope_ , whether she wants to or not. And Maya knows goddamn well that he’s going to be her biggest downfall, and she can’t wait. Honestly. She lives for it. 

 


	2. setting fire to our insides for fun (part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: Can you do one where Lucas and maya go to a party get drunk admit their feelings for each other and make out?

Maya Hart is an embarrassing drunk, to say the very least.

The first time she got wasted was sophomore year of high school, at one of Missy Bradford’s parties that she likes to throw when her parents are away on business trips, and the entire class  _still_ refuses to let the events that occurred that night go.

Maya  _hates_  reflecting back on that part of her life (the Jell-O shots off of Missy’s abs, telling Billy to go fuck himself with a toilet plunger, dancing on tables, accidentally on purpose professing her love to Riley after kissing her, and then throwing up everything she consumed the morning after) but it’s perpetually embedded into her long term memory. And she  _promised_ herself that she would never get that bad again.

(It’s safe to put on the record that Maya Hart has never really been good at keeping promises. Especially ones that she’s made to herself.)

So here she is, a few hours and too many fireball shots after the conversation she had with Lucas, with her head on Riley’s lap on a fucking ugly green couch, and a water bottle clutched in her hand. Riley’s fingers are gently combing through her hair, too many words coming from her mouth that she doesn’t have the energy to decipher.

“Riley Riley Riley,” she mumbles, waving her hand in the air in a gesture to get her best friend to stop talking. “Shut the fuck up for a minute, would you? You’re making my eyes hurt.”

“You mean your ears?”

“That too.”

“Maya, I cannot believe you drank straight from the tequila bottle. That’s disgusting - not to mention  _incredibly_  unhygienic.”

“You’re at a college party, Riley,” she reminds her tiredly. “Everything is unhygienic.”

Charlie chooses that moment to return with a mini trash can that he leaves next to her, you know, just in case. He slumps back down on the couch, glancing over at Maya taking up the entire space. “How’s she doing?”

“ _She’s_  sitting right here and can hear you perfectly,” she responds before Riley could. “And she’s  _fine_ , for your information. God, I didn’t even drink that much. All of you are overreacting.”

“You jumped on some kid’s back and tried to ride him like a bull because you wanted to embarrass Friar,” Charlie brings up, even though she didn’t need the reminder.

“And was he embarrassed?”

“He’s still hiding in the bathroom,” Riley mumbles and Maya doesn’t appreciate the hint of disapproval she hears in her tone.

“Then I did my job.”

“Charlie, I have to check on Zay - last I saw he was trying to slide down the staircase railing so I need to make sure he isn’t dead.” Riley plants a kiss to her hair and moves Maya’s head to Charlie’s lap.

“Love you, mom,” Maya mumbles as Riley leaves.

She hears - “ _Isaiah Babineux_! Get down from there or so help me  _god_  I will - ” not even ten seconds later. She figures the peach schnapps Riley had earlier wore off hours ago.

“Charlie Soufflé?”

“Yeah, Maya.”

“There’s water dripping down my arm. Did I pee on myself? Is that even scientifically possible? Can you check?”

He sighs and she feels him lean over her to grab the water bottle she’s holding onto. “The cap was loose. The water was spilling from the bottle.”

“Ah, you’re so smart,” she mumbles. Her mind starts racing for a few moments as the silence stretches. The bonfire, Lucas with his mouth on her skin, the _I think you’re beautiful_  like a broken record in her head. “Charlie?”

“Yeah, Maya.”

“You’re an expert on this kind of stuff. What do you do when you love someone but they don’t love you back?”

He’s quiet for a while, taking some time to consider the question she guesses. He must know a lot about her situation since he’s in love with Riley and Riley’s not in love with him. She feels him laugh underneath her then, the kind of laugh that tells her he doesn’t really find it funny at all. “Ask me again when I figure out the answer.”

“She loves you, you know. Just not in the way you want her to,” she tells him, because she wants him to feel just a little bit better.

“Have you told Lucas how you feel?”

“Wha - I don’t - pfft - I’m not in love with  _Lucas_  - where did you -  _how_  could you - ha! That’s a good one! Hey, everybody! Charlie’s got  _jokes_  now, did you hear? He thinks  _I’m_  in love with - ”

“Maya, literally everyone knows. The lady that serves the chicken every Wednesday knows. The guy that passes out flyers every day advertising the new gym knows. The janitor on the fourth floor of the campus library knows.”

“Everyone except Lucas apparently. That goddamn fucking idiot.  _God_.”

“You should tell him.”

“No I shouldn’t. He doesn’t - I  _know_  he doesn’t. Because he’s a  _moron_. And he -”

“Maybe it’ll turn out differently for you, if you try. Maybe he’ll actually love you back.”

Maya tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, her nails digging into her palms. “No one’s ever loved me back before. Why would that blockhead be any different?”

“Because we can see it. Everyone can see it, no matter how hard you try to hide it with your unnecessary antipathy. You should go tell him, Maya, while you’re drunk and have a high probability of not remembering it in the morning.”

“You’re such a good influence on me, Charlie,” she responds sarcastically, sitting up from her position even though it makes her head feel likes it’s going through a wood chipper. “I’m gonna go find Lucas. I’m gonna go tell him how I feel.“

“Okay. Good. Tell me how it goes.”

“You’ll be the second one to know.” Maya stumbles her way through the crowd, past the kitchen, and up the stairs where she saw him last. She nudges people out of her way, almost trips over a girl lying on the floor.

Remembering that Riley said that he was still in the bathroom, Maya heads straight there, pounding on the door once she’s reached it. “Sundance? You in here? I really need to talk you, it’s kind of important.”

There’s no answer. She knocks again. “Lucas?” Too impatient to wait, Maya pushes the door open, an insult ready on her tongue, but then she sees him sitting on the closed toilet seat.  _Asleep_.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Maya shuts the door behind her, making sure to lock it so no one interrupts her. She shoves his shoulder and calls his name a few times but he doesn’t budge. “God, Lucas, I’m too goddamn drunk for this, wake the  _fuck up_.”

His head lolls to the side, and he almost slips from the seat before Maya steadies him.

“If you don’t wake up _right now_ I’m going to take this toothbrush - ” she picks a blue one from the sink “ - and stick it up your _ass_ , do you understand?”

A groan escapes his mouth and she sighs. She’s starting to wonder how the hell she ever fell in love with him. “ _Lucas_!”

He startles awake, finally, and she waits for him to acknowledge her. Maya watches him rub his eyes with the heel of his palms, and his hair is mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it. When he blinks up at her his eyes are bloodshot. “Maya?”

“Yeah, cowboy, it’s me.”

“Am I …. dreaming?” He laughs then. “Holy shit, I’ve had this dream before. Except it wasn’t at a party. And it wasn’t in a bathroom. And it was at school. And you were wearing a cowboy hat.”

She’s understandably beginning to doubt her decision to confess her feelings to him. “So you actually haven’t had this dream before - wait a minute, this isn’t even a dream. I’m  _real_ , you dumbass.”

“Oh. Well that’s even better, then. Why are you here again? Did I forget to feed the horse?”

“The  _horse_  - oh my god, anyway, I came to talk to you about something - ”

“I’m sorry, Maya, but you’re gonna have to talk louder I can’t see you.”

“Jesus Christ, you are not making this easy on me.” If people think  _she’s_  an embarrassing drunk it’s only because they haven’t seen Lucas at his worst. She rubs her hand over her face and takes a deep breath. The alcohol is starting to wear off so she needs to say this quickly, before she loses the last of her nerves. “Lucas - ”

“Maya, if I ask you a hypothetical question would you answer, you know, hypothetically?”

“Would you just let me speak for – okay,  _fine_. Make it quick. What’s your question?” Maya leans her hip against the bathroom sink, crosses her arms over her chest as she waits.

“This is a hypothetical question, like I said, but,” Lucas stands up from the toilet, reaches out to place a hand on the edge of the sink by her hip to brace himself. “hypothetically, what would you do if I kissed you? Like hypothetically.”

“I would  _hypothetically_  stick this up your ass if you say that goddamn word one more time,” she answers with a cheeky smile as she holds up the toothbrush she forgot she still had in her hand.

“Okay, how about - how about let’s  _not_  stick things like this up in any part of Lucas’ body,” he says and takes the toothbrush from her, placing it back where it belongs. “So you  _don’t_  wanna kiss me, that’s what I’m getting from this.”

Maya closes her eyes then, leaning forward to rest her head on his chest. This is so  _hard_. She wants to say it so bad, she _needs_  to, primarily for herself, but the words are stuck at the back of her throat.

“Because I really wanna kiss you, Maya,” he continues in a whisper. “I really  _really_  wanna. It hurts so bad how much I wanna. But you have to let me.”

She feels his breath on her neck, and it’s making her dizzy. More dizzy than the alcohol had ever made her feel. Maya doesn’t say anything for a while, because her heart doesn’t know if she can take the possible rejection. She knows she’s strong, her mother used to tell her she’s got lion’s blood coursing through her veins, but when it comes to the boy standing in front of her with his mouth too close to her neck, she’s not so sure of anything anymore.

_Maybe it’ll turn out differently for you. Maybe he’ll actually love you back._

He starts to pull away after a few minutes of silence on her end, and maybe it’s the fear that she’s missed her chance that makes her say it.  

“So the thing is,” she breathes out in a rush, closing her eyes tightly, and clutching the fabric of his shirt in her fist so he doesn’t move any further away from her. “I’m kind of in love with you. Kind of a lot. And it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Shit.”

“Okay, that was not the answer I was expecting.” She loosens her grip on his shirt and looks up at him. He’s staring back at her, like he always does, but there’s something else now that she’s never noticed before. Something like hope. Or relief.

“ _Please_  let me kiss you,” he begs, his hand cupping the side of her face, the other still on the counter, and he has to bend down to level with her eyes.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” When he kisses her it’s soft at first, but she grips the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, and then it’s rough as Lucas lifts her up so she can sit on the sink, wrapping her legs around his waist. She kisses him back hard, fervently, like she’s afraid they don’t have much time left and she wants to live in this fantasy for as long as it lasts.

His lips find her neck and his hands find any part of her body that they can reach. She feels hypersensitive to everything: the music from downstairs reverberating through her rib cage, the fabric of her shirt separating them, the taste of cheap alcohol on their breath, his hand on her thigh, the loud and painful thump of her heartbeat every time his teeth bite into her flesh. It becomes too much too soon.

Maya pulls away slowly, reluctantly, with a hand on his chest. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, focuses her eyes on the freckle on his collarbone as she speaks, “Look, Lucas. I know you don’t – I know you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay, really. I think I just needed to say it. I think I just needed you to know.”

He laughs, which stings a little, because what the fuck. “Am I gonna have to start serenading you for you to finally understand? Or write it in the sky? Or stand underneath your window with a boom box like John Cusack?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Sundance, what are you – “ her tone is firm and accusing, like what he’s saying can’t possibly be true.

He’s smiling down at her, his hands cupping her face, eyes shining. He leans down to kiss the tip of her nose. “I kinda maybe sorta love you a lot, too.”

“Shit.”

Lucas grins, his mouth on hers again, and she really hopes she remembers this is in the morning. She doesn’t see how she could possibly forget.

“Just so you know,” she tells him, brushing her nose against his. “I will never ever wear a cowboy hat for you –  _ever_. You understand?”

“You think I can’t convince you otherwise?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

His hand settles at the base of her neck, his thumb running over her bottom lip. All she wants is for him to shut the fuck up and kiss her again. “I can be pretty persuasive, you know.”

“Not about this, probably never about this. I do own a pair of cowboy boots though. Were those in your dreams?”

“A lot of things were in my dreams,” he answers, gently nipping her lip with his teeth.

Maya runs her hands up his chest, until they’re in his hair and she tugs him forward. “Just so you know, it scares me how much I love you, because no one’s ever loved me back, and I swear to god, Lucas, if you hurt me – “

“I could never hurt you, okay? I give you full permission to kill me and scatter my remains in a sewer if that ever happens. But oh my god, I promise you, it’s not going to.”

“Okay. Okay. I trust you.” She’s only ever trusted one other person in her life, and that’s Riley. But there’s this feeling that settles low in her belly when he smiles at her, something so painfully sweet it makes her ache.

“I’m glad. Now can we shut up and make out until they kick us out of here?”

“Fucking  _finally_. I mean, seriously, Sundance, do you ever stop  _talking_  –“

This is the part where he kisses her. This is the part where she stops trying to bury the thing called hope in her chest, where she ignores the part of her that tells her that this isn’t a good idea, that she should leave, because every molecule in her body is screaming _stay, stay, stay._

This is the part where they stop running in circles.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me or send me prompts on [tumblr](http://lucayae.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: could you do a fic where shawn and cory dress up as girls to spy on lucas and maya's first date

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“So do you  _want_ them to hear us? Is that what you’re going for? Lower your voice, Cory, Jesus.”

  
“Wait, Shawn, you gotta little - ah, there’s some - there’s eyeliner on your cheek - ”  
  
Shawn groans, and then quickly stops himself, further hiding himself into the fake plants situated far enough from Maya and Lucas that they won’t notice them, but close enough for him to see anything that Lucas tries to pull. A couple sitting at a table near them eyes them warily. “Why did we have to wear eyeliner again? What was the point? Aren’t they supposed to make your eyes pop? We don’t want our eyes to pop, Cory! We want our eyes to stay hidden!”  
  
“Shh! They’ll  _hear_ you!” Cory puts a finger to his lips and glares at Shawn, who rolls his eyes dramatically. “This was  _your_ idea, remember? You were all annoying and overprotective with your  _Cory, that old man passing as a sixteen year old asked Maya out today and I am not letting her go without supervision._  To which  _I_  responded with - ”  
  
“Oh I  _know_ what  _to which_  you responded with so you can shut up, thanks,” mumbles Shawn, peeking through the plants to take another look. So far it’s been fairly appropriate - the cowboy hasn’t tried any moves on Maya yet and he’s hoping it’ll stay that way.   
  
“Shawn, I don’t know what you’re so worried about, they’re good kids,” Cory tells him for the fifth time that night. “And he likes her a lot. Look - he can’t stop laughing at literally everything she’s saying and  _aw_ \- he’s refilling her water glass for her, how cute.” Cory watches them for a few moments then, the way Lucas looks at Maya like a zombie apocalypse can take place right in this very restaurant and he wouldn’t even notice.   
  
“Wow, he’s really pathetic for her,” Cory observes. “ _Wow_.”  
  
Shawn rolls his eyes again. “You’re not helping. Like, at all. And you look stupid.”  
  
Momentarily forgetting to keep an eye on the two kids, he swivels around to face Shawn. “You’re the one who wanted to go like this! You said, and I quote - ”  
  
“Don’t quote me, I know what I said.”  
  
“Then don’t call me stupid.  _You’re_ stupid.”  
  
“Oh  _real_ mature, Mr. Matthews - ”  
  
“Shut up, Shawn,  _look_.” At the very moment, Lucas is reaching across the table over to Maya, linking their fingers together, and Shawn sees the way she bites her lip and looks down at their hands before looking back up at Lucas. And she  _likes_ him. He can see that, right there on her face, right there in her eyes, and how did he  _miss_  it?   
  
But then she rolls her eyes at something he says, swiftly leans forward to punch him in the shoulder with her free hand. He scoffs lightly, a bemused smile on his face. An odd couple, Lucas and Maya.   
  
“Ah, ah, ah, what’s that face?” Cory interrupts with a smug grin. “Are you maybe, oh I don’t know, warming up to these two being together? Finally?”  
  
“How are you okay with this? You didn’t want Riley going out with Lucas, so why should Maya?” Shawn asks, because there’s some part of him that isn’t quite sure yet. He’d never actually tell her to her face, but he worries about her, more than he’d like to admit.   
  
“It’s different,” Cory says, watching as Maya picks the lemon out of his water glass to squirt the juice at him. It hits him square in the chest and he groans, pretending he’s been shot as he clutches at his heart. “They’re good for each other, and I  _know_ that he’s crazy about her. I wasn’t sure about him with Riley because there was someone else I knew he would rather be with. And, Shawn, you have nothing to worry about, I’m telling you. She can take care of herself.”  
  
“Yeah, but she shouldn’t have to.”  
  
“I think she would disagree. She’s fine on her own; Lucas is just a bonus.”  
  
Shawn sighs then, slumps down on the floor, the fake fern leaves scratching his back. “I feel ridiculous.”  
  
“This is what happens in the Cory & Shawn Show,” he responds as he sits down next to his best friend. “We forgot to sing the song when we rolled in here totally badass and suave, by the way, like we’re James Bond or something.”  
  
“You will never be James Bond,” Shawn tells him. “You tripped over nothing before we even walked inside. I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you, but James Bond is not in your future, my friend.”  
  
“ _Jerk_. I can totally be James Bond.”  
  
“No you can’t.”  
  
“Shut up, Betty Crocker.”  
  
“You don’t get to make fun of my dress! This is the only thing I could find at such short notice! And what about you, huh?”  
  
“What about me? I’m Rosie the Riveter. I’m awesome.”  
  
“None of this is fair.”  
  
“Hey, you shoulda been a history teacher so you would’ve already bought this costume beforehand to teach your students about women in World War II, which can also be useful when you’re stalking your kind-of-not-really daughter with her kind-of-almost boyfriend at a snobby restaurant. Not my fault you didn’t come prepared.”  
  
“I hate you.”  
  
“You boyfriends having fun? You can take our table; I assure you it’s way more comfortable than the floor. Plus, there’s a bread basket.”  
  
They did not see this coming. Even though, they honestly probably should have.  
  
“Shawny?”  
  
“Yeah, Core.”  
  
“That was Maya, wasn’t it? They’re standing right behind us, aren’t they?” There’s a grimace on Cory’s face that would’ve been comical had it not been for the incredibly embarrassing situation they’ve managed to get themselves into.    
  
“I think it’s best if we don’t turn around. Maybe they won’t see us. Maybe they’ll go away,” Shawn whispers to Cory, as if that’ll help any.   
  
“Hey, Shawn?”  
  
“Yeah, Maya?”  
  
“You look ridiculous. Stand up.”  
  
He sighs and slaps Cory’s knee, both of them shamefully getting up and facing the two. Lucas has an arm around her waist, and a shit-eating grin on his face that Shawn can’t help but be impressed. “Soooo. What’s up, kids? Can’t believe we ran into you here! What a small world.”  
  
Maya rolls her eyes. “Stop it. What are you guys even doing? And  _what_ are you wearing?”  
  
“It was his idea!”  
  
Shawn smacks Cory in the stomach. “Always so quick to pin the blame, aren’t ya?”  
  
Maya folds her arms over her chest and stands there, waiting for an answer with her eyebrows raised, running her tongue over her teeth. Shawn thinks she’s one of the scariest teenage girls he’s ever encountered in his life.   
  
“Now Cory I can understand doing this,” she says. “But you, Shawn? Really? Spying on our date? This is low.”  
  
“I was - I was just…worried, okay? There, I said it, I was worried” he confesses, and then points an accusatory finger at Lucas. “But c'mon, seriously? He’s like 36!”  
  
“God, you guys are so dramatic,” she mutters with another eye roll. He doesn’t know how they’re not stuck in the back of her head yet with the amount of times she rolls them. “Anyway, we’re leaving for Topanga’s. Too stuck up and high end in here. They wouldn’t even let me put the raspberries on the tips of my fingers like little hats. Like - excuse me for having some fun. Also, I don’t know if you know this, but there are pests just running around, acting like they can just do whatever the hell they want in here. They really need to get that checked out.”  
  
“She’s talking about us, isn’t she, Shawny? We’re the pests.”  
  
“Yeah. We’re the pests, Cory.”  
  
“Table’s all yours, ladies, I  _insist_ ,” she tells them with a grin, wiggling her fingers as she waves goodbye, following Lucas out of the restaurant. She looks back before the door closes behind them, and Shawn catches a hint of a smile before she’s gone.   
  
They sigh simultaneously, walking over to the now unoccupied table. Shawn pulls off his scarf and wipes the makeup from his face. “This concealer concealed nothing. Makeup is useless. And these shoes are  _killing_ me.”  
  
“I told you we needed those masks from Party City, but did you listen to me? Of course not.” Cory takes a piece of bread from the basket, breaking it in half and shoving it into his mouth.   
  
“Cory, they would’ve arrested us on the spot and you know it.” There’s water and lemon seeds all over the table, and he grabs a handful of napkins to clean up the mess. When he goes home, he’s going to have a talk with her about leaving fancy restaurants in such a state because honestly -   
  
“Shawn, wait!”  
  
His hand freezes in midair, the napkins just hovering over the table. “What? What is it? Is there a bug on my face? Is there something on my  _face_ , Cory?”  
  
“No, but look,” he says and points at the napkins in his hand. “There’s one with writing on it. What’s it say?”  
  
Confused, Shawn places the napkins back onto the table, and picks the one with the smeared red lipstick scrawling on it. It’s Maya’s handwriting, he can tell in an instant. There’s only three words written on it, but it makes him smile. Maya Hart, the daughter he’s always wanted. He’s so lucky to have her in his life, and he hopes that Friar kid feels that way too.   
  
“Wait - Shawn, are you  _crying_?”  
  
“This is the nicest thing she’s ever done for me.”  
  
“Gimme it,” Cory snatches the napkin, and then looks back up at him after reading it, with a deadpan expression on his face. “Shawn, this says  _you suck ass._ ”  
  
“Yeah but look, there’s a heart at the end.”


	4. could we pretend that we're in love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: CAN YOU DO "you're my best friend but please be my fake boyfriend for my family Christmas party you'll get free food and we'll be at a nice cabin but my family always asks why i don't have boyfriend and i need this from you shit we slept together this is awkward" PLEASE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself i would only write a max of 2k words for tumblr prompts, yet here i am.

“Can you do me a favor – “

“No.”

“But you don't even know what it is – “

“Okay, what is it?”

“Can you – “

“No.”

“Maya! You didn't even let me ask!”

“Sorry. Force of habit. Go ahead, Huckleberry, ask me whatever you need to. But I swear to god if it has anything to do with your Texan heritage or joining your mother’s knitting club my answer will, and will always, be no. I love your mom, but I don't love her _that_ much.”

They're in her room, backs against her headboard, textbooks and notebooks taking up most of her bed as they try to study for their exams in a couple days. Maya ignores the way his knees bounce up and down, his fingers fidgeting with the pencil in his hand - he's nervous, but why?

When he doesn't say anything for a while, his silence like a physical thing around them, Maya sighs exasperatedly and rolls her eyes, shoving her books aside to look at him. “Fuck, just ask me, Lucas, it can't be that bad. What, did you accidentally show Farkle your coin collection? Did Riley see your sock drawer? Do you need help hiding a body? Whatever it is, I got your back, so just fucking _say it_ –“

“Be my girlfriend.”

Maya coughs violently, choking on the rest of her words. “I'm sorry, _what_?”

Lucas sighs. “Not like – not like a _real_ girlfriend. A fake one. My family is always on my ass about me not seeing anyone. Someone nice and respectable to bring home, and it's annoying as shit. I'm tired of it. So I need you to come with me over Christmas break and pretend to be my girlfriend so my family can back off.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “I mean, my mom already thinks we're dating anyway so what's the harm?”

She scoffs. “’Nice and respectable’? You've got the wrong girl, cowboy.”

“Maya, _please_.” It surprises her how desperate he sounds. “I can't ask anyone else, really. Everyone knows about the disaster that was me and Riley, and Missy’s going out with Billy now so she's out of the question. You're the only one. Please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”

She bites her lip – she can't believe she's actually _considering_ it. This is ridiculous, and _stupid_. If Huckleberry needed a girl to pretend to be into him he should ask someone else, honestly, she doesn't want to deal with this shit. She's got better things to do. But he's looking at her, eyes wide and hopeful. And it would be really mean of her to say no…right? She's his best friend after all, and she did say she's got his back. It's not like it'll become A Thing, anyway.

“I don't know, Lucas,” she mumbles, dropping her gaze back onto the notebook in her hand, tapping her pen against the page. Meaningless equations and theorems stare back at her. “Like, I really don't wanna have to hold your hand and kiss you and stuff in front of your family.”

He rolls his eyes. “Maya, we've literally had sex before; I think you can manage holding my hand for five minutes in front of my mother.”

“Okay, first of all, that was _one time_ and you _promised_ that you would never bring that up. And two, how am I supposed to pretend that I don't despise you long enough for your family to believe that we’re dating?”

He's already grinning and she really wishes she could actually hate him. “So you'll do it?”

“Yes,” she hisses in annoyance, “but I won't like it.”

“Great, I'll send you the details. We leave on Christmas Eve, I already booked the airline tickets.”

“Wait – you already had everything _planned_? Did you tell everyone that I would be coming before you even _asked_ me?”

Lucas at least had the mind to look a little embarrassed. “I hoped you would. Or else I would have had to pay someone to go with me instead.”

She hesitates. “You were gonna pay someone? Does that mean that I –“

“I am not paying you, Maya.”

Maya clicks her tongue and grumbles, “Fine. But I mean, if I had even a _little_ compensation for my hard work that I'm gonna have to do pretending that I'm in love with you I will probably be a lot more bearable.”

“There's gonna be free food,” he tells her. “And it's gonna be at my Pappy Joe’s cabin in Texas, which he just remodeled so it's very nice. I'm sure you'll find some way to entertain yourself.”

“Okay, fine. But you _owe_ me for this, Friar. God, I don't think anyone's gonna believe that we’re in love with each other, are you sure you wanna do this?”

“C’mon, how hard can it be?”

*

“This is _too hard_ ,” whines Maya. They're sitting in the airplane, first class because apparently Lucas’ family is fucking loaded, and Maya’s unhappily chewing the complementary peanuts.

“Maya, we haven't even done anything yet. The plane is still on the ground. What could possibly be so hard already?” he asks, taking his free pillow and blanket from the plastic wrap, trying his best to get as comfortable as he can.

“I'm just thinking,” she says, “what if they ask me all of these questions about you? What if I don't know the answer? Haven't you watched The Proposal with me before? Do you think we should practice?”

Lucas rolls his eyes at her. “I mean, we _are_ best friends. I think we know plenty about each other, don’t you?”

Maya worries her lower lip, glancing out the plane window. “I guess…”

“Okay, would it make you feel better if we practiced? I'll ask you potential questions, and you answer them. How's that?” He turns in his seat to face her, his knee pressed against her side.

“Fine, go.”

“Okay. So, my aunt Maybelle is – “

Maya interrupts with a snort. “Maybelle? Seriously? Who else is there? Aunt Lucinda? Uncle Rufus?”

“…No. Shut up.”

“Holy shit, I'm right, aren't I? God, I'm gonna be surrounded by Huckleberrys, this is gonna be interesting.”

“ _Anyway_ , my Aunt Maybelle loves to get into my personal business, all the fucking time, so you can guarantee that she's probably gonna be one of the first ones to approach you. Probably pinch your cheeks and call you “darlin’” and shove a pie in your face. She's very sweet.”

“Can't wait.”

“She'll probably also ask you how we met.”

When Maya looks at him, he’s too busy looking out the window to catch her eyes. He's nervous again. “Okay so how do we tell her that we met our sophomore year of high school at a college party neither one of us was invited to and fucked in some kid’s bathroom without it sounding…exactly…like that.”

“Yeah, we're gonna have to lie.”

“No problem, I can do that,” she agrees easily. “Okay how about we say that we met two years ago, which is true, at your bible study group on a beautiful Sunday morning. We felt Jesus in the room with us. It was very romantic.”

Lucas lets out a surprised laugh. “They're not gonna fall for that one bit. Cute, though.”

Maya can't help but grin in response. “Let's try this one more time. We met sophomore year. You were the new kid in my class, and you thought I was cute so you – “

“Wait, why _me_? Why can't you be the one to think _I'm_ cute?”

“Jesus, fine, we each thought the other was cute, but we didn't do anything about it for a while because of your goddamn thick skull so – because it _is_ the 21st century and I do consider myself a progressive woman – _I_ was the one to ask you out.”

“And I said no.”

“Excuse me? No you didn't. I'm irresistible. That means you can't resist me.”

“Where's the drama, Maya? The suspense? If we're gonna do this, might as well make it a good story.” Lucas throws a peanut into the air and tries to catch it into his mouth but he misses it by a centimeter. He's definitely an idiot.

“ _Fine_. You said no because you were still hung up on Riley, who you previously dated pretty much as soon as you got to New York.”

He nods. “So you moped around for weeks – “

“No no no, I do not _mope_. That is not a thing I do. Try again.”

“Okay, you wrote sad poetry about me – “

Maya makes an obnoxious sound to indicate that he made the wrong choice, again. “Next!”

He groans, rolling his eyes heavenward. “I finally get my shit together and I ask you out since we're both ready and clearly think we should stop denying whatever it is that we have with each other?”

“Good answer. Nice and respectable.” Maya grins at him. “Okay, next question.”

“Let's do easier ones. Tell me all my favorites.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes, reclining the seat a little to give his long legs some space to move around.

“Favorite what? Color? Blue. Movie? _Seabiscuit_ , because you're lame and you fucking would. Book? _The Giving Tree_. Because you're a sap. Animal? Koala bear. Show? Law  & Order.”

“Which one?”

“SVU, duh. It's the only one that even matters.”

He smiles, all teeth, impressed. “You want me to do you now?”

Maya shrugs. “If you can. I'm pretty much a closed book, Friar.”

His eyebrows shoot up high in disbelief. “You sure?”

“Give it your best shot.”

“Easily. Your favorite movies are _Annie_ and _A Little Princess_ because you're sucker for those types. You say you don't like to read that much but you have all the _Harry Potter_ books hiding under your bed. You spend your Sundays painting the mural for the Y, so you come to school the next morning with dried paint underneath your fingernails and behind your ear. You drunk texted me one night confessing that you don't actually hate pop music. You – “

“Okay, enough, I get it. You know too much, I think I'm gonna have to kill you now.” It's a little unnerving, how much attention he pays her. But he's not wrong, they're best friends, it's only natural that they know this much about each other, right? Even if they've only been in each other’s lives for two years?

Lucas is grinning smugly beside her, eyes still shut and arms folded across his chest as he attempts to relax before meeting his family. “I pay attention. I'd make a great boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you're a catch,” she replies dryly. “Does your mom really think we're dating?”

He opens his eyes, looks at her for the first time since they started this game. But then he shrugs, nonchalant. “She believes whatever she wants to believe.”

“Did you ever think to, I don't know, correct her?”

“She just really likes you is all,” he tells her. “Every time you leave my house she asks me when I'm gonna ask you out, if I'm maybe secretly dating you, or that – that you'd be good for me, or whatever. Bullshit like that. It's just a joke.”

“Right.” She doesn't let it sting. “Totally bullshit. Like I would ever date you anyway.”

“Hey, you are now, remember that. At least try to act like you can stand me, okay?”

“What if your mom finds out that we were lying?”

“She won't. Because we're great actors. No one will suspect a thing.”

“Maybe we should've practiced doing more couple-y things. The only relationship I've had was with Wes Landon in fourth grade for like half a day and Missy Bradford my freshman year of high school. We just made out by the lockers and stole vodka from her mother’s liquor cabinet. I'm not exactly an expert on these things.”

“It's okay,” he reassures her. “Just be yourself.”

“That's never really worked out for me in the past,” she grumbles. “And you better not leave me alone with any of your relatives, I swear to god, Huckleberry – “

“As long as you don't ask anyone if they've ever fucked a tractor.”

Maya groans and lets her head fall back onto the seat. “God, will you let that go?”

“No! My cousin is scarred forever because of you.”

“It's not my fault. I was drunk.”

“You're right, I just shouldn't take any more family calls when I'm with you ever again.” He shakes his head. “This is what happens when I try to be nice and let you introduce yourself to my relatives.”

“So you agree that this is all your fault and I am not to blame for your carelessness.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

*

Lucas’ mother meets them at the airport, with enough hugs and kisses for the both of them. He quickly takes her hand in his after Maya’s done greeting her, and it catches her by surprise for a second before she remembers that, oh yeah, _I'm Lucas’ Girlfriend now._ It'll take some getting used to.

“I _knew_ it!” his mother exclaims, too excitedly, as she helps carry some of their luggage. “I knew you guys were together. Or at least that my little shnookums over here was completely head over heels – “

“Mama, please tell me you didn't already start drinking,” Lucas interrupts with a nervous laugh. “It's only three in the afternoon.”

Annie, his mother, rolls her eyes. “Of course I haven't started drinking yet. That only happens when your father starts with his entirely irrelevant anecdotes that frankly no one cares to listen to. Which happens more often than not, unfortunately. You know this.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Now come on,” she says, shoving the two of them towards a car idling outside. “Your aunt Lucinda is waiting and she's _dying_ to meet Maya. She's heard many good things.”

Maya snorts, because _Lucinda_ , and Lucas elbows her side, cuts her a look that can only read as _Behave_. After a slightly annoyed eye roll, she plasters on a smile, preparing herself. Once Annie disappears to pack their suitcases into the car, a woman hops out of it, a smile so bright and wide it blinds Maya, and runs over to her and Lucas.

The first thing Maya notices is that she's nothing like the image of Lucas’ family that she painted in her head: big hair, floral _Little House on the Prairie_ like dresses, sensible shoes. Riding in a horse-drawn carriage. Because Lucinda is the complete opposite of that, with her red lipstick, tiny pair of Daisy Dukes, and high-heeled boots. Maya can't believe this, her mouth hanging open as she stares at the woman in front of them. Lucas’ aunt is _hot_.

Lucas elbows her again. “You're drooling. It's embarrassing.”

“Lukey!” his aunt shouts, and Maya sees him cringe. He's always hated that nickname. His hand slips from hers for a second when Lucinda wraps her arms around him, and he's so tall she only comes up to about his nose, even with her boots. “It's been so long! I remember when you were just a little one, seven years old, running around singing Johnny Cash and finger-gunning everyone. Adorable.”

“Lucy, you are literally like four years older than I am,” he says, unimpressed.

“Whoa, really?” Maya interjects. “Can I be your girlfriend instead?”

Just as she's about to step towards her, Lucas grabs her hand again, pulls her to him and settles an arm around her waist, whispers in her ear, “Sorry, but you're mine.”

She really can't explain the way her heart stops beating in her chest for a split second.

Lucinda’s laughing good-naturedly, teeth white and glistening like a fucking toothpaste commercial. “She's cute, Luke. You did good.”

“I know.”

“Hey, I'm Maya,” she pipes up, since no one’s bothered to introduce her yet. “The girlfriend.”

“Lucinda, but you can call me Lucy. I refuse to use my birth-given name until I'm sixty.”

“Car’s packed up, guys!” Annie calls as she shuffles into the passengers seat. “Let's go!”

They pile in, Lucas and Maya in the back, and they don't question how and when their hands ended up laced together again. Annie and Lucy talk in the front seat: Lucy about how Pappy Joe already found the Jack Daniels and was singing _Comin’ Round the Mountain_ by the time they left, and Annie about how she hopes he doesn't get into the blackberry pie before dinner.

Lucas is staring out the window, jaw clenched, his hand gripping hers tightly.

“Hey, I was just kidding back there,” she leans into him, her chin on his shoulder, whispering so Lucy and his mother won't hear. “Your aunt is really hot, but I'm your – “

His smile is soft when he looks at her. “I know. It's not - it's not about that.”

“Then what? You love Christmas. This is like the best time of the year for you to let out all your crazy. So what's up?”

“I'm just really not that good at pretending.” He sounds distressed, almost, and it makes her anxious a little because he was the one who told her it was going to be okay and that they can pull this goddamn stupid plan off, but now all of a sudden _he's_ the one who's scared? No fucking way.

“I thought you said we were great actors,” she reminds him.

“I was lying.”

“See? And I didn't even know that until you said something. _So don't say anything_.” She squeezes his hand for emphasis, and he gets distracted by it, staring at their fingers clasped together. He holds them up to his face, staring at the back of her hand, at her chipped black nail polish, at the blue ink on her wrist.

“You can still back out if you don't wanna do this,” he whispers. “It'll be fine. I'll just tell them that you're my friend and that – “

“They'll still think we're fucking anyway so might as well just stick to the plan,” she tells him. “Like you said, you'd be a great boyfriend. They won't think otherwise.”

He gives her a crooked grin, one that tells her he's going to be okay, and he rests their hands on his chest, over his heart, and she's not sure he even realizes he did that. “Obviously. But you? You need some work.”

“Shithead,” she mutters and punches his thigh with her free hand, his smile growing, and her body feels like it's a thousand degrees for some unknown reason.

When she glances up, she sees Lucy looking back at them in the rear view mirror, a knowing smile on her face. Before she can convince herself not to, Maya leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth _– for the plan, obviously_ – and he doesn't breathe. She knows this because he still has her hand on his chest.

*

Two awful country albums and an hour and a half later they finally arrive at the cabin, wooden and in the middle of fucking nowhere, and they're instantly bombarded with people. It smells amazing the moment Maya steps inside, like peppermint and pine, and she wants to turn to Lucas and tell him how she's never really had a good home-cooked meal before for Christmas, but her hand gets ripped from his again and she loses her chance.

“This is Maya,” he introduces once everyone’s done greeting him. It's loud in here, about ten people including a couple children crowding the space, but it's okay, she realizes. It feels nice, surrounded by so many of Lucas’ family, all of them so enthusiastic. She doesn't mind Christmas at home, spending it with the Matthews, and then spending the day after with her mother, sitting next to her miniature tree and drinking eggnog and trading gifts while some corny Hallmark movie plays in the background. Last year Katy saved up all her tips from the diner just so she could buy Maya this really expensive art kit she's been lusting over for forever, and that was more than what she could ever ask for. She’s never needed much, just a warm body to fall asleep next to and someone to share hot cocoa with. This is different, but sometimes different can be good. “My girlfriend.”

Maya smiles at them when they all howl and whoop in excitement, gathering her into a group hug.

“My boy finally got a girl,” someone says from the couch and they turn towards the voice. “Who woulda thought?”

 Lucas nods tightly, responds with an even tighter “sir.” Maya grabs his hand back this time, and he relaxes a little.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Friar.” She gives him a smile, and he returns it as he salutes her with his beer bottle. She notices how he doesn't get up to hug Lucas, and Lucas doesn't make a move to start any conversation with him either.

Maya’s about to turn to Lucas, ask him to show her where the bathroom is, but there's a yell and the sound of clanking metal. She jumps, startled, afraid someone’s hurt themselves, but Lucas just rolls his eyes and gives her a half smile, holds up his finger and mouths _wait for it._

A woman barrels into the living room where the entire family is, a grin already in place as her arms extend, reaching for them. Her hair is falling out of her bun, dress covered in flour and strawberry jam.

Lucas leans down to her ear, whispers, “That's Aunt Maybelle.”

“Ah,” she replies as it dawns on her.

“Lucas! My sweet boy! And his girlfriend? Oh my, what a little darlin’ you are! A precious pair, the two of you!” Aunt Maybelle covers him in kisses sticky with syrup, and she hugs Maya so tightly she's sure she's going to end up with a crushed esophagus by the end of tonight.

“Auntie Belle, please don't break my girlfriend,” Lucas teases, but it still makes Maya’s heart race, her vision hazy, because _girlfriend_. She's still not used to it. “I kinda like her too much, so it'd be cool if I get to keep her for a little while longer.”

Aunt Maybelle laughs and loosens her grip on Maya, patting her cheek. “How sweet you two kids are. Y’all make my teeth ache. I made pie – you like pie, right, darlin’? Apple, cherry, pumpkin, berry – “

“I like all the pies on the spectrum, ma’am,” Maya answers. She's cute, and eccentric, and Maya can see how much Lucas loves her, loves his entire family, and how much they love him. Because what's not to love? They accepted her completely without even knowing who she was and – shit.

Lying to them is going to be a lot harder than she originally thought.

**  
***

“This will be your room,” he says to her after shutting the door behind them. She dumps her bag on the floor and collapses on the bed with a sigh after sweeping the room with her eyes, doing her best to ignore the taxidermy on the walls. “Mine’s across the hall. I heard Dave and Becky making bets on if we'll be even needing two separate rooms so I guess we're doing okay so far.”

“Yeah,” she answers noncommittally. Dave and Becky are his cousins, a couple years younger than they are, and completely annoying. Dave with his obnoxious and incredibly heavy accent cracking inappropriate jokes, and Becky egging him on like he's her fucking puppet. She met the rest of them after Maybelle finally let them go so she can finish baking. Met his uncle Buster and Pappy Joe, met his baby cousins Rufus and Lizzie, met the family pets who took a liking to her immediately. His mother sat her down and showed her baby pictures of Lucas, which she's totally going to use against him, and his dad drank too much whiskey and told her stories about the time Lucas used to ride sheep. It was a lot to take in, but like he promised, Lucas never left her side, no matter how embarrassing it got.

He lays down on the bed next to her. “You doing okay so far?”

She turns on her side so she can face him, her hand lying in the space between them. She finds herself wanting to hold his again. “Yeah, I'm in a house full of cowboys, what more could I want?”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Everyone likes you. I guess you really are a good actor.”

She smacks his stomach. “Hey! I take offense. I'm a good person, I don't deserve this type of slander.”

“I'm kidding. Who in their right mind wouldn't like you?”

“I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not,” she replies, squinting her eyes in suspicion. “You're too good, Huckleberry, too damn good.”

He laughs, scoots closer to her until her hand skims the hem of his shirt, and the oxygen level in the cabin rapidly depletes. It's quiet for a few moments as his eyes pin her in place. “I'm sorry you can't be with your own family for Christmas.”

“Ah, it's alright,” Maya dismisses, flipping over on her back because it's safer that way. “I'm sure the Matthews could use a break from me, and I usually see my mom the day after, so. Don't worry about it. Your family is awesome anyway. Except for Dave and Becky obviously, and your dad could use some work, but. I like them okay.”

When she looks back at him, he's grinning so big she's afraid it's going to split his face in half. “Does this mean you're going to stop making fun of me?”

Maya snorts. “Do you not know me at all? Of course not. If anything, I have more ammo now, thanks to the contribution of your wonderful family. It's only just begun, Friar.”

**  
  
**

They get called to dinner half an hour later and it's everyone for themselves as they fight for the seats they want. Lucas knows how this goes already, so he's quick as he sits in the chair at the end, pulling Maya in the one next to him.

“No!” Dave exclaims childishly. “Lucas _always_ gets the good seat!”

“What's so special about these chairs?” Maya asks him in a whisper.

He leans towards her, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. “No squeaks, tears, splinters. You don't know how many marks I have on my ass from some of these chairs.”

“I’m sure your parents can afford new ones,” she replies. “Ones that don't cause unnecessary scars.”

Lucas shrugs. “They say it has character. Plus, they've had them for years, and they've always had a hard time letting go of things that they hold close to them.”

“Gotta be faster than that, Dave,” Pappy Joe says from the head of the table, digging into the mashed potatoes and green beans. “You'll learn one day.”

“So how'd you two meet?” Aunt Maybelle asks excitedly as the other adults converse amongst themselves, her eyes darting between Lucas and Maya. She looks a little bit older than Annie, but there's still a youthfulness to her. “Tell me everything, I wanna know everything.”

“High school,” Maya answers, focusing on getting food onto her plate and not making eye contact with anyone. “Lucas was the new kid and I never told him but I liked him. But he liked my best friend Riley so we were just friends until they broke up. It was a while before we got together.” Besides the meeting at the college party, she realizes that this is entirely the truth.

“I rejected her at first,” he contributes, adding lies to the story. “Still not over my first girlfriend, I guess. Or maybe I was just scared of her. Scared of what I felt for her since the first time I met her.”

This is not part of the script.

Maya sneaks a glance at him to see that he's spinning his fork in his hands, bouncing his leg up and down. If there's any truth to what he said, she's choosing to ignore it for now.

“Oh man,” Lucy voices across from them, almost reverently. “Lucas Friar – in _love_. Never thought I'd see the day.”

He smiles tightly, clasps his hand with hers and holds them up so he can brush his lips over her knuckles. Maya’s face flushes, every part of her feels like it’s on fire.

The dinner is more than what she expected – Annie and Maybelle having cooked everything she could ever imagine at a Christmas dinner. She loves the atmosphere, the easy way that everyone talks and laughs and shares with each other, the way that this is what she pictures a real family to be like.

“Is it like this every year?” she asks him at one point. Lucas’ dad had just finished telling everyone a story that Maya guesses they've already heard by the way they were rolling their eyes, Annie telling him to shut up and eat his food.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he answers with an embarrassed smile. “Is it weird?”

“Weird, yes,” she replies. “Bad, no.”

“Thanks for doing this, Maya,” he whispers then, eyes with so much gratitude it overfills her.

“Don't mention it,” she tells him, a smile on her face that should probably scare him. “I got free food out of this, and your embarrassing baby pictures. This is the best Christmas I've ever had.”

After dinner, which included the seven different pies Maybelle baked for dessert, they all collapse on the couch with full bellies and sleepy eyes. Maya's leaning on Lucas’ shoulder, fighting consciousness, her head fitting too perfectly between the crook of his neck, and this is allowed. This definitely has to be allowed.

It doesn't help any that he has his hand resting on her thigh, and his mother thought it was a moment that she just _had_ to capture with a disposable camera. Maya’s too tired to object.

His uncle Buster decides that it's the right time to turn up the Christmas music and break out the champagne, which Maya respectfully declines. “Don't wanna be drunk and start doing something indecent in front of your family,” she whispers to Lucas.

He chuckles softly and hums, mumbling into her hair. “Like what?”

“One time I stripped down ass naked and climbed a tree near the Matthews’ apartment building. I pretended I was Rose from Titanic and tried to stand on a branch, but it obviously couldn't support my weight so I fell off. Luckily, I chose a branch that was only like three feet from the ground, but I still have the scars to prove it.”

“Woulda loved to see that,” he replies, voice rough with sleep. “Hey, I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Not a chance.”

“Lucas!” He startles when Maybelle’s voice breaks through the noise. “Come help me clean up!”

He groans. “That's definitely code for We’re Gonna Talk About Your Girlfriend.”

“I'm sure you've got only nice things to say about me.” She watches him get up from the couch, makes his way into the kitchen, only to have his Aunt Lucy plop right down beside her as soon as he's disappeared. “It's like I'm a Huckleberry magnet.”

Lucy grins. “I just wanted to say – whatever you're doing, keep doing it. I've never seen Lucas this happy before. It's a good look for him.”

“He's the best thing that's ever happened to me.” This is not a lie. “I'd do anything for him.” This is also not a lie.

She ruffles Maya’s hair playfully and she grumbles in return. “I'm not sure if you know this, but Lucas hasn't always had it easy.”

“He told me a few things,” Maya says hesitantly, not sure if he would appreciate them talking about this particular topic. “about his old life back here, before he moved to New York. How he got into some trouble.”

Lucy nods, purses her lips. “Always had such a temper that one, and a loud mouth like you wouldn't believe. But he's different with you. Quieter. Better.”

“You got that from just meeting me a couple hours ago?” she asks, skepticism in her voice.

“Annie's been noticing it for a while now,” answers Lucy, that same knowing smile from earlier making its presence known once again. “Don't think the entire family doesn't know about how soft he is for you. Frankly, it's pretty lame and disgusting, especially considering how he's never felt this way about someone before. Trust me, we know. We're a pretty close family; nothing stays a secret for too long.”

At that point Maya’s pretty sure the walls are caving in on her so she stumbles up from her seat. “I'm – I’m gonna go find him – Lucas. Um, goodnight.”

“It was nice talking to you!” Lucy calls out delightedly.

She's just about to fall into the kitchen before he comes out, holding his arms out and steadying her so she doesn't trip. “Slow down there,” he chuckles, but then sees the look on her face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Fine,” she squeaks. It seems like all her nerve cells have traveled to the place where Lucas is touching her, like his fingers are made up of live wire. “Just tired.”

He peeks his head out to look over her shoulder and sees Lucy on the couch where he was sitting last. She waves at him, a wide grin on her face, and Lucas rolls his eyes. “Did she say something to you? Whatever it is, it's a lie.”

Maya bites her lip. “Nothing. Whatever. I kinda just wanna go to sleep, is that – “

“Mistletoe!” someone yells and she knows exactly who it is without having to turn around. Fucking _Lucinda_. “You gotta kiss her, man!”

Lucas looks up to see that, of course, there's a mistletoe hanging from the kitchen doorway just over their heads. _Of course._ Everything in Maya is telling her to step back. That kissing Lucas is not a thing that should happen. That everything will be too complicated after, another knot they're going to have to unweave sooner or later, and she's not sure if it’s worth it.

But she _really_ wants him to kiss her.

He looks back down at her, at her mouth, but he doesn't move. Like she told him, she is not a Nice and Respectable Girl, so she wraps her arms around his neck and drags him down until she can reach his lips with hers, right there in front of his entire family.

There's cheering, no doubt initiated by Lucy, but all she can really focus on at the moment is that his hands are on her waist and he's crushing her to him, until every part of her lines up with every part of him. She slides down one of her hands to rest over his chest, feels his heart thumping harshly underneath, and she bites his lip, fighting a smile.

“What's the matter, cowboy?” she breathes, her lips ghosting over his. “Feels like you just finished running a marathon.”

His smile presses against her teeth, his fingers climbing up her spine underneath her shirt. He doesn't answer because he's too busy using his mouth for other things.

Someone clears their throat loudly, purposefully, and they spring apart like they've been burned, Lucas shoving Maya six feet away from him. Her entire face feels like she stuck her head in the oven.

“I'm just gonna take all of these down,” Annie says as she flits around the house, pulling off all the mistletoes in sight. Maya glances over at Lucas, and she can't help but laugh. He cracks a smile, holds his palm face up, and she doesn't even think about it, she just fills the spaces between his fingers with her own. Like they're meant to be there. Or something ridiculous like that.

“They're definitely not gonna use the second bedroom,” she hears Becky say to Dave. “That's ten bucks, pay up.”

His dad puts on _A Christmas Story_ , a movie Maya learned the Friar family watches every year, and everybody piles back on the couch. Maya ends up with her head on Lucas’ lap and her feet on Lucy’s. And if someone asks what's happening in the movie she can't really say exactly because Lucas has been playing with her mind, running his fingers through her hair, occupying every inch of her brain. She never let herself think about the idea of her and Lucas, he was always so unattainable to her, especially since he went out with her best friend, but now. Now enough time and healing has passed that it seems like a possibility.

Ten minutes later, she's drifting in and out of consciousness, only catching bits and pieces of conversations, hearing her name being thrown into the mix.

“I'm gonna take her to her room,” she hears Lucas telling his mother. “She's practically a corpse.”

Just as he's about to pick her up, Maya rolls off his lap, standing up from the couch, not bothering to open her eyes. Once he's off the couch as well, she motions for him to turn around, and he obeys, obviously. Maya reaches her hand out, wraps her arms around his neck and then jumps on his back, resting her head on his shoulder. He catches the back of her thighs easily.

“What's this?” Lucy asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“It's kind of her thing,” replies Lucas as he makes his way to the stairs. “Why do you think my favorite animal’s a koala bear?”

**  
  
**

The next morning, Maya wakes up to find Lucas lying on his stomach in the bed next to her, his arm secure around her waist, face turned away from her and mushed into the pillow.

He's also not wearing a shirt.

She lifts the covers quickly to make sure she's still wearing her clothes, breathes a sigh of relief when she sees everything still on, and then remembers that she didn't even drink last night.

Maya sits up on the bed, nudges Lucas until he wakes up. He groans, blinks warily up at her and nudges her back after glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “What the fuck, Maya, it's six in the morning.”

She grins. “Merry Christmas, loser.”

It takes him a few moments to register her words, his eyes widening slightly as he gazes at her, at his surroundings. And then he surges up, kisses her breathless. “Merry Christmas, Maya.”

He's kissing her everywhere, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her neck –

“Lucas, we need to talk.”

“About what?” he mumbles absentmindedly.

“About this.”

Lucas leans back, searches her face, and then detaches himself from her. He runs a hand through his hair until it's sticking up on its ends, and he really needs to put on a shirt because it's fucking distracting. “Right. You're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you – “

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up, oh my god.” Maya reaches over the side of the bed and into her suitcase, pulls out what looks like a gift bag. “I got you something. I mean - it's not really anything special or amazing or whatever, but. Here.”

He's smiling at her as he takes the bag, and she wonders how in the hell she's never noticed it before. How he looks at her, how he's always looked at her.

Her heart’s in her throat as he pulls it out, a portrait of him she's been secretly working on for months now. “Drawing, it's - it's the only thing I'm really good at, you know that, so – “

“Maya, thank you, I love it so much.” And he does, she can see it on his face, in his smile, and it makes her heart feel like it's exploding, like every atom in her body is being split apart. But in a good way. Definitely in a good way.

“I got you something too,” he tells her. “It's downstairs, under the tree so you can – “

This time, she's the one who leans towards him, to kiss him breathless.

“I thought –“ he says between kisses “- I thought we needed to talk.”

“Kiss now. Talk later.”

“Okay, but I just want you to know that I'm – I'm so in love with you,” he whispers then. He looks a little scared, like maybe she'll reject him, and it almost makes her laugh. Because now that she thinks about it she can't remember ever not feeling something for him, and she's apparently such a good actress that she hasn’t even realized she's been lying to herself all this time. “Like so much. Like painfully. Like brutally.”

She wonders why she's been given such a flammable heart then, one that blows up once she hears his words like gasoline pouring into her insides. “I'm pretty sure you could fucking devastate me. And I'm honestly okay with that.”

“So what you're saying is that you….”

“I'm saying, give me a little bit more time, and I'll get there. I promise," she responds, taking her gift from his hands and setting it aside so she can wrap herself around him. “But I've come to find that I really like you, Huckleberry. It’s kind of lame and disgusting how much.”

“So,” his grin is wide and brazen, “no more pretending?”

“No more pretending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from is there somewhere by halsey because, obviously.


	5. meet you in the middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: prompt of lucaya dating other people but always choosing each other first before their boyfriend/girlfriend which only their friends and everyone else notices but them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maya and lucas through riley's eyes
> 
> (title taken from the beach by the nbhd)

So this is how it goes:

On the left there’s Maya, with her shotgun tongue coiled tight behind a sharp-toothed grin. She's built her backbone out of empty promises and the halves of too many people who were supposed to love her, but she’d carve out the shape of her heart for anyone with a crooked smile. Everyone looks at her like she's a car crash. Lucas looks at her like maybe she's made of magic.

On the right there's Lucas, with his lazy grin and secrets between his teeth. It's a known fact that he has a history of cracked lips and bruised eyelids, but he'd tear himself apart for the people he calls family. Everyone looks at him like he's made up of sunlight. Maya looks at him like she wants to dig into his skin and rearrange his insides, and he'd let her. Of course he'd let her.

And at the edges, fraying at the seams, there's a line of people they let kiss them in the dark.

*

This week Maya’s dating this kid named Mason Gardner, older brother of Charlie Gardner, and everyone knows they won't last more than three days. They're too similar, too much of a bad influence on each other. He's a senior, couldn't give a shit about attending any of his classes, so he takes Maya with him on motorcycle rides around the city, takes her to his favorite bar where she can't get in so they just make out by the dumpster next to a Chinese restaurant. She comes back in time for her last class with the smell of cigarettes clinging to her jacket and gravel embedded into her palms.

Of course Riley doesn't approve, especially since she's sure she's the first one to catch on to the fact that Maya and Lucas might actually be in love with each other. She's tried to tell Maya that she's wasting her time on boys like Mason, that he probably won't ever love anyone as much as he loves himself.

“Who said anything about ‘love’?” was Maya's only response.

Riley’s tried to talk to Lucas about it too. Tried to tell him that he can't keep leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him if he's just going to go back to Maya like he always does. He told her he didn't know what she was talking about.

(Riley thinks they’re the most stubborn and ridiculously oblivious people she's ever met in her entire life. Even more so than herself.)

She's talking to Zay about it while in between classes when she sees Maya storming the halls like she's some sort of goddess, hair flowing like fire behind her, spitting knives from the cracks of her teeth at whoever looks at her the wrong way. Stopping at Lucas’ locker, she slams it shut, the sound like a crack of a whip echoing through the nearly emptied halls. Riley pictures horns blowing from the sky and separating rain-sodden clouds, lightening shooting down from the gods’ fingertips.

“A double date? Really, Lucas?” she hears Maya seethe. Her arms fold across her chest like a shield, eyes slicing into him like a double-edged sword. “Like I wanna spend _more_ time with you.”

It's as if Lucas is completely unaware of Maya's hostility towards him, or he just chooses to ignore it, because he's smiling down at her. It's almost kind of funny, Riley thinks, how oblivious she’d been in middle school, still was up until recently, to not notice that Lucas looked at Maya a little differently than he did anyone else.

“Hey, if you gotta problem take it up with Tiffany,” he replies, turning so his body is completely facing her. When they talk, even if they're arguing, even if they're angry with each other, it's like they're the only two people in the world that exist in that moment. “She's the one who thought it would be a great idea, not me.”

Maya groans, and Riley wonders if her eyes need passports to travel that far back into her head. “She couldn't have picked a better idea than _ice skating?_ God.”

He shrugs. “I'm sure it'll be fun. Especially if I get to see you fall on your ass a couple times. Remind me to thank Tiffany in advance.”

“Have I told you recently how much I fucking hate you?” Riley’s heard her say it so many times before, but something about it seems different here. Her voice isn't as harsh, isn't hard like stone, as it usually is when she speaks to him. It’s more like swirling sugar and honey in hot tea on a cold night.

Lucas looks at his bare wrist, pretends there's a watch there, and makes a face like he's concentrating. “Hm, I would say it was about two hours and sixteen minutes ago. A new record for you.”

Maya turns her head so he doesn't see her fighting a smile, but Riley sees it. She remembers what it was like to be in love with Lucas, lifetimes ago, so she can recognize it on Maya's face, sees it in the way she gravitates towards him without even realizing it. Riley knows how hard it is to break through Maya’s iron clad chest, where it protects a soft heart that pumps too much love instead of blood throughout her entire body. But Lucas picked the lock with such nimble fingers Maya hadn't even realized that he had made his way inside a long time ago.

*

Maya's good at a lot of things – art, socializing, cracking jokes that don't come across as intentionally mean –  but apparently she's not so good at ice skating. Riley feels a little proud of herself that she's better at something than Maya is, for once it seems like, finally. (After spending so many years feeling insecure, feeling inadequate next to Maya, she thinks she's allowed to be a bit smug.)

She had come up to Riley the previous day asking her to join them on their date, because _there was no way in hell_ she could guarantee Lucas would survive the night without her scraping her claws into his spine. So here she is, with Charlie holding her hand as they skate laps around the rink.

It’s sort of cute how Maya and Mason fall over each other, clinging onto one another as they try to make their way around the ice with chattering teeth and unsteady legs. Sort of sad too, really. On the other side, Tiffany is skating circles around Lucas, showing off some of the most graceful, the most intricate spins and moves that Riley has only ever seen on tv.

It's kind of like watching a train wreck, the moments following. Unlike Maya, Lucas has never been one to shy away from PDA, so he takes Tiffany’s hand and pushes her against the railing, his other hand in her hair, and just as he's about to lean down and kiss her –

“ _Fuck_ – ow, _shit_ , Mason, get your – “

He's momentarily distracted, removing himself from Tiffany, his eyes instantly finding Maya on the ice on all fours, limbs tangled with Mason’s. He looks terrified for a second, unbridled concern on his face from seeing her on the floor and he doesn't even _realize_ -

(That's probably the most frustrating part.)

But he skates over to her easily, pocketing his anxiety, and leaves Tiffany by the railing. Riley feels a little bit sorry for her.

Lucas stops right in front of Maya, crouches down until they're eye level, and gives her a smirk. “Well, this is definitely something no one saw coming.”

She glares at him so hard Riley almost expects his skin to burn off. Maya stumbles up, ignoring Mason’s helping hand, and shoves Lucas. His responsive laugh can only be described as cheerful. “I didn't even _wanna_ come here in the first place,” she grumbles, a little childishly.

“Have you even made it around the rink _once_?” he asks, his eyes shining, smile shameless. There's that look again, like he can have nothing else in the world except the tiny blonde with the fire for eyes in front of him. Riley doesn't know how they haven't scared everyone away yet. Tiffany and Mason, for all their faults, deserve better.

“Have you even made it one goddamn _minute_ without shutting your goddamn _mouth_?” Maya tries to look intimidating as she skates towards him and pokes his chest for emphasis, but it's hard when she's tripping over her feet, so he grips her waist with one hand and skates them backwards with ease. Mason watches them with narrowed eyes, wiping the shaved ice from the wet patches on his pants.

It's then that Riley sees Tiffany glide over to him, shrug helplessly after casting a quick glance at the other two, and offer Mason her own arm to hold onto. It makes Riley ache a little. She has this image of Maya and Lucas in her head, and they're holding all the hearts that have loved them before, crushing them inside their white-knuckled fists until they turn to ash in the palms of their hands.

“C’mon, I'll help you,” Lucas says to Maya, a little too quietly, a little too fondly, as he grips her arms and continues to move backwards. Riley wants to tell him to stop talking to her like that, because it's too dangerous. Like digging nails into an open wound. Especially with the way Maya looks back at him, eyes gleaming under the pale light, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips like she's hiding a secret.

At one point, when Riley momentarily directs her attention from Charlie to her two best friends, she watches Lucas let Maya go to see if she can handle it by herself. But instead she clutches the hem of the back of his shirt, lets him lead them around the rink. And it's so clear that he makes her happy, she can see that, her laughter filling every empty space. Mason can see it too, she guesses, by the way he sits down with Tiffany on the sidelines, watching, waiting.

*

Lucas gets the flu one night, in the winter, and doesn’t show up to school the next day.

“Where's Huckleberry?” she asks Riley, casually. She's fidgeting with the strap of her backpack, the way Lucas does when he's nervous. “Not like him to miss an entire day of school.”

Riley tilts her head to the side, assesses her best friend before replying, “Dad said he's home sick. Didn't you know?”

There's a slow grin spreading on her face that Riley doesn't like so much. She counts her own heartbeats until Maya speaks again. “Okay. Well. Tell your father that I won't be attending class today, for personal reasons.”

Riley's eyebrows furrow, frown lines deepening at the corners of her mouth. “Maya? What are you going to do?”

But Maya doesn't answer; she just grins wickedly, wiggles her fingers at Riley as a goodbye, and flies out of campus like her feet are made of feathers. “Ta-ta for now!”

“Maya - !” She contemplates chasing after her, one foot already in front of the other, but then she pauses. She’s always been the one to stop Maya from getting herself into trouble, the one to balance out her reckless heart with her own sensibility. But this isn't middle school anymore. This is high school, and she can't just leave whenever she feels like. She has responsibilities.

But she really doesn't want Maya to do something she'll regret. Or maybe she won't regret it, whatever she's about to do that Riley’s sure she won't approve of. Maya's like that sometimes. She does things without thinking of the consequences, without caring about them. But Riley’s different. She's never skipped school, not once, not even if she's sick, not even when she was being bullied and it physically hurt her to get out of bed.

So she stays. She pushes open the classroom door and she tells her father that Maya won't be coming in and she slides into her seat and she takes notes about warrior queens and the men whom they lead into war – one copy for her and another copy for Maya, so she doesn't fall behind in class. Because that's just who Riley is, who she's always been.

**  
**  


Three days later, Maya breaks up with her then boyfriend Carter Myers after fourth period, and everyone saw it coming. Riley knows this because the whole school is talking about it, the news floating from one person’s mouth to another’s ears like a game of telephone. She thinks her school is composed entirely of vultures, viciously scavenging for every bit of gossip they can find like it’s their basis for survival.

“Did you hear about Carter and Maya – “

“Yeah, that girl can't keep anyone for more than a week, it's kind of pathetic.”

“First it was Kevin for like half a day, then that kid Brett who transferred a couple months ago, then it was Jesse who lasted the longest out of all of them, and then Mason, and now Carter. Can she give these guys a break? Goddamn.”

It makes Riley angry, these people talking about Maya as if they know exactly what's going on. It makes her even angrier to know that Lucas is doing the exact same thing as Maya and yet no one is saying shit about it. She really wants to have a talk with them about double standards, and tell them to stay out of Maya's business, that they've got it all wrong –  but when she hears Sarah talking to Darby she stops and listens.

Sarah’s leaning against her locker, holding her textbook to her chest, and Darby has to lean forward to hear her among the chatter in the hallways. “I think it's because she's in love with Lucas.”

Riley and Darby’s eyes widen at the same time.

“I mean, think about it,” she's saying, “She only started serial dating a little bit after Lucas came, most likely to forget about the fact that she was developing feelings for him. And it's so obvious that Lucas likes her – like the whole school practically knows – but they're way too stubborn to admit it each other. So they just date other people instead and pretend that it doesn't bother them.”

“And oh my _god_ ,” Darby contributes, nodding like the realization finally dawned on her. “Remember a couple days ago? When Lucas was sick? I live near his apartment complex and I was late for school that day, so as I was on my way here I saw Maya walking in that direction. Of course I wondered what she was doing since she lives the opposite way but I _never thought_ that – Jesus.”

Sarah nods eagerly in response, like they're solving some type of freaking conspiracy theory.

“And to make it even worse, Carter was looking for Maya that day, asking her friends if they've seen her because they had a lunch date and he got worried when she didn't show. Holy shit, poor kid, somebody has to tell them.”

Sarah shrugs. “I kinda wanna see how far this thing goes before they finally snap and confess it to each other. Hey, wanna make a bet? I say it'll be within the next week.”

“Are you kidding? This has been going on for _months_. I say – “

Riley doesn't want to listen anymore, so she speed walks to the lunch room where she knows Maya and Lucas and Farkle and Zay will be waiting for her. Darby’s right, she thinks, somebody really needs to talk to them, or at least Maya, about this. It's only going to get so much worse if they continue on, and if they like each other then why not finally be together?

She's never fully understood the games they play with each other, a tug-of-war with one another’s heartstrings, a never ending round of darts with their lungs as the targets, and do they think that this is _fun_? It wasn't ever like this when she was with Lucas. It was like swimming under murky swamp water, hands reaching out to search for each other, not knowing where they ended or began. It was too confusing, and not worth all the heartache she went through when she finally realized that Lucas would never really give her his heart. Not like how he did with Maya.

She's not bitter or anything, at least not anymore. But sometimes she does think about what it would be like to be loved like that by Lucas – he was her first crush after all. She remembers lying in bed days after the break up, wondering if maybe things would have been different if Maya weren't around, if Maya hadn't been the first one to meet him that day. If maybe she'd been more confident and funny like Maya then he'd like her instead, that he'd like her still. Which only makes the guilt, an ugly and living thing, chew her insides raw.

But she's glad he loves Maya like that, really she is, because she deserves it. She deserves someone who looks at her the way Lucas does, and actually mean it.

Now all they have to do is admit it to each other.

**  
**  


Riley decides to talk to Maya about Lucas the next afternoon. They’re in the school library during study hall, Riley explaining to Maya what she had missed that day she skipped class while trying to articulate the right way to say that she knows about her feelings for Lucas.

“Who is she again?” asks Maya then, her eyebrows furrowed, staring blankly at the folder full of notes opened in front of her.

Riley sighs. “Maya, are you even listening to me? Her name was Penthesilea. She was queen of the Amazons. A warrior.”

“Sounds like my type of woman.”

“She was very brave, and powerful,” Riley explains, highlighting all the important parts for her. “Fighting her way with her men through Troy to kill Achilles and to avenge the death of the Prince. But, poor girl, she wanted to die in battle, too, after she had accidentally killed her sister; she was filled with so much grief that she thought ‘hey, two birds one stone.’” She pauses then, eyeing Maya, who looks confused as she returns her gaze. “It's kind of ironic actually.”

“What is?”

“Achilles fell in love with her during the battle,” she tells her, eyes flitting down to the papers in front of them, her fingers tapping on the table. “Like Penthesilea, he fought his way through the soldiers, watching her do the same, and he was in awe of her fierceness, her strength, and once they ended up right in front of each other in combat, he couldn't help but be in love with her. But it was too late; he had already killed her. The brave and powerful warrior queen died in the hands of her opponent, in the hands of the man who loved her but had to kill her.” She pauses for a moment to let Maya take it all in. “It's not romantic; it's tragic.”

“Well,” Maya responds, jotting down the notes Riley gave her. “Greek mythologies aren't exactly known for their feel-good family moments. Of course it's not romantic.”

Riley purses her lips, wonders if it's going to take more than a metaphor to get through to her. “What I'm saying, Maya, is that – sometimes you hurt the people you love, and you can't help it, and you can't really stop it, but you did, and there's no way you can undo it.”

“I may not be as smart as you are, Riles,” she answers with a little bitterness at the edge of her words, “but I think I get the basics of this stuff. You don't have to dumb it down for me.”

“No, that's not what I was trying – “ Riley breaks off the sentence to take a deep breath. She wishes this could be one of those times her father made them dress up in ridiculous outfits, made them brush up on their acting skills, made them figure out the lesson on their own. Because that way maybe she wouldn't be in this position with Maya right now. “I mean…okay, listen, I just think maybe you should think of yourself as Penthesilean and Lucas as Achilles.”

Maya lifts her head slowly to look at her, eyebrows raised high in disbelief. “Riley, according to these notes, Achilles literally had sex with her after she died and she gave birth to his child. _After she died_. What part of that is me and Lucas, exactly?”

She rolls her eyes and grabs the last of the notes from her hand. “Forget about that part. I am not talking about that part. I am _talking_ about the part where you and Lucas are about to come to a standstill after all this time of being in this stupid battle with each other, of fighting against your feelings, of taking bystanders down with you, and you're gonna come face to face and – tell me again what happened to Penthesilea?”

Maya snorts. “Melodramatic much? Maybe you should join the theater club, Riley, I heard they were looking for a new president. You'd make a great fit.”

“Maya, I'm _serious_ ,” she objects, stomping her foot on the ground in exasperation. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt, and I want you to stop hurting other people. No more casualties because of this _thing_ you have with Lucas.”

“See, and this is where I lose you,” she says, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “What ‘thing’ with Lucas?”

“Oh? You mean that thing where you both are completely in love with each other and literally everyone knows about it except you two, and neither of you will act on it because of your goddamn abandonment issues and he's too stubborn to tell you that it hurts him so you both just go around and around in circles and, gosh, aren't you guys _tired_ already? Because I sure am.”

Riley carefully catalogs Maya’s expressions: her deliberate lift of the chin, her narrowed eyes, jaw clenched and fists balled, bottom lip between her teeth. She's like a ticking time bomb about to detonate.

“I am not in love with _Ranger Rick_ ,” she says this slowly, lowly, to make sure that Riley heard and understood every biting word. Even if it means nothing, even if Riley knows she's lying through teeth.

“Why can't you just _admit it_? Maybe then you both can just get over this silly little game that's taken up most of your time.” Riley leans forward, until she’s directly facing Maya, trapping her as she looks into her eyes.

“I am telling you,” Maya says. Her skin is turning red, from her face all the way down her chest. “There is nothing between us. Where are you even _getting_ this from?”

“What'd you do that day?” Riley asks instead. This seems more like an interrogation, and that isn't what she wanted it to come to. But if Maya would just listen and tell the goddamn truth about her feelings then they wouldn't be here right now. “When you left school after I told you Lucas was sick. What'd you do?”

Riley’s eyes are drawn to Maya’s neck as she swallows, and then flickering back up to her face as she waits for an answer to explain all of this.

“I went to the cowboy’s house,” she says quietly, her voice a bit husky. “To see how he was.”

“Why? Why did you care, Maya?”

“I – I didn't – I just wanted to, you know, make fun of him a little,” she replies hastily and it reminds Riley of all those lawyer shows her mother likes to watch. This is the part where the detective gets the suspect to crack under pressure, slowly, little by little, like walking on thin ice.

“You had to go _all_ the way to his _house_ when he was _sick_  just to do that?” she asks, cocking one eyebrow and tilting her head as she bores holes into Maya. Riley pictures smoke rising from her skin.

She shrugs. “You know how much getting under his skin means to me. Fuels my ego.”

“What else happened at his house?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't you dare lie to me, Maya, you're better than that.” Maybe she's being a little harsh, but it's about time she put her foot down for some information.

“Riley, why are you so convinced that Lucas and I are in love – or whatever. It doesn't make _sense_. _We_ don't make sense.” She can see how badly Maya wants to convince herself of that.

“Why do you keep on denying it? Is it because of your dad? Because of your mom? Or – me? Because I promise you, there's nothing between me and Lucas, so if that's what it was, if you were worried about me still being in love with him then you can forget about it because – “

“God, that's not - that's not what – “

“Then _what_ , Maya? What are you so scared of?”

Riley's afraid she's not going to say anything else, that she pushed Maya too far and now they're back to square one. She waits, watches as she twirls the pencil in her fingers, and she should start a list of how many habits Maya and Lucas have picked up from each other.

“Maybe…” Maya starts then, avoiding Riley’s eyes and opting to focus on the clock _tick tick ticking_ above them. “Maybe I'm not Penthesilea. Maybe _I'm_ Achilles, and _I_ kill the person I love. And maybe I don't wanna do that so maybe that's why I stop fighting. Maybe that's why I should just – put down my sword.”

(Who's the one being melodramatic now?)

“Not if you think he's worth it,” Riley says softly. “Not if you really really wanna try with him, and not if he really really wants to try with you. Trust me, I know he does. And I know you do, too, so just _admit_ it to yourself.”

Maya glances back at Riley, worrying her bottom lip again until it's raw. “I'm not entirely sure if I can.”

At least Riley can say that she tried. She takes Maya's hand from across the table, squeezes it in a gesture of comfort. “I know it's terrifying, liking someone. Putting yourself out there.”

“Not for you,” Maya says quietly, and if Riley didn't know any better she'd say she seems a little shy, too. “You're not afraid to put yourself out there, to risk getting hurt for something you care about.”

“Who says I'm not?”

“Remember when we were in eighth grade? And you tried out for the cheerleading squad? And Coach Kelly kept on rejecting you and telling you that you'd never be good enough but you wouldn't take no for an answer and you worked hard for what you wanted and you didn't stop until you got it? Remember that?”

“Of course, that moment is stuck in my long term memory forever. I bruise like a peach, and my butt was not very happy with me for a long time.”

“That's where we're different, Riley,” she continues. “I’d never be able to do what you did – I just don't have it in me. I'm a fucking coward.”

Riley clicks her tongue, shakes her head, and expels a wistful sigh. “Maya, Maya, Maya. Oh, Maya.”

“Stop saying my name so much. Why are you saying my name so much.”

“Sweet Maya. Sweet, little Maya.”

“Riley, _what_.”

“In another life you stormed through the battle front, taking down all the men that were ten times bigger than you with just your courage and an axe.” Riley raises her eyebrows purposefully, a smug and knowing smile on her lips. “So I think you can manage telling the boy you love that you love him.”

A few moments later Maya gives her an eye roll, a small twitch at the corner of her mouth that could be interpreted as a half smile, and she counts that as a victory.

*

Maya breaks two more hearts before she tells Lucas she loves him.

The first was Bradley Gibson, who she met in the middle of the summer at the country club Riley’s parents dragged them to. He was the lifeguard at the pool, had perfectly straight teeth, and owned a nice car that Maya would never be able to afford with leather seats that rubbed the back of her thighs the wrong way. He liked to call her baby girl and drink champagne in his backseat, and the only reason why it lasted three weeks was because he promised Maya free access to the club’s bar.

And he was always nice to Riley and her parents, but he never really liked Lucas all that much. Which is understandable considering the fact that whenever he tagged along, sometimes Maya would forget that she had a boyfriend.

(She broke up with him when Mr. and Mrs. Matthews ended their membership when school rolled around again, and she wasn't even sorry.)

The second belongs to Noah Sullivan, a kid Maya sits next to in English Lit. He comes into class late everyday, smelling like weed and car freshener, and slides into the seat next to Maya like his bones are made of liquid. Sometimes he forgets that he stuck his drum sticks in his back pockets so when he stands up, there's four pieces of broken wood on the chair. She calls him a bigger mess than she is, but he lets her steal his jacket and he kisses her like it’s the last time he'll ever get to.

Riley thinks she's being dramatic when Maya says she loves him because he owns the entirety of The Strokes’ discography on vinyl, because he plays _Room on Fire_ when they’re making out in his cigarette hazed room with empty whisky bottles on his floor and he breathes poetry like he needs it to live. And she doesn't really like his tattoos, doesn't really like the fact that he wastes his money on cheap alcohol that he and Maya use to get drunk on in the middle of the day when they should be studying or being a more productive member of society.

But Maya says he might be The One, and Lucas is going out with Stephanie from math class so there's not really anything Riley can do for them right now. But she does invite them over on a weekend, when her parents are away on a mini vacation with Auggie. She brings out the board games, locks her parents’ liquor cabinet so Noah can't get into it, and gathers everyone who's here already around her living room.

Farkle and Smackle haven't shown up yet, and neither has Maya and Noah, but Charlie and Zay and Lucas and Stephanie are all sitting on the couch, waiting for something to begin. They attempt to vote on what games to play while they wait for the rest of the party, and Charlie tries to hold her hand once and she's surprised to find that she doesn't hate it so much.

There's a knock on the door, and Riley sees Lucas perk up immediately, like he's a dog and his owner has just come back home. But when Riley opens the door to reveal Farkle and Smackle, Lucas visibly deflates back into the couch. He catches himself though, and shakes his head, like this has happened before and he has to constantly discipline himself from thinking of Maya. Lucas wraps an arm around Stephanie’s shoulders, kisses her temple, and keeps his focus on the present situation.

Riley’s trying to talk to him about a warrior queen and the man who killed her when there's a knock on the door fifteen minutes later. She sees the muscles in Lucas’ thighs contract, his arm sliding from Stephanie’s hand, like he's about to open the door himself – but Charlie Gardner beats him to it. He settles back into the couch once again, his eyes glued to the door, refusing to blink. Riley cannot even believe that they think they're actually being even remotely subtle with their feelings.

Maya and Noah are on the other side, hands linked together and smiles wide and careless. She's wearing a plaid shirt that's two sizes too big so Riley knows it doesn't belong to her, and Noah has a lipstick stain on the side of his neck that he did a pretty awful job at covering up if she's being completely honest. It's like he didn't even try. It makes Riley a little angry how Maya and Lucas parade around with their other people, waiting for the other to cave first. How reckless they are with their hearts. How shameless.

“Party people!” Maya announces as she steps over feet to get to the couch, plopping herself on the floor, right next to Lucas’ feet. Noah sits down next to her, and Riley’s sure Lucas is trying to ignore the way Maya’s back presses against his knee. “What's good? What are we playing?”

“We've got monopoly?” Smackle chimes in. “That's always fun.”

“Not if we wanna be here until we're 106 years old,” Zay says. “Let's play charades. Now that's a good game. People are always good at pretending to be something they're not.”

“How about,” Riley suggests slowly. “Truth or dare?”

“What is this, seventh grade?” Maya scoffs. “Pass. Next suggestion.”

“I think that'll be fun,” Charlie pipes in, smiling at Riley like she's the only person that matters, and to him that's probably true. Maya sees this and glances up at Lucas, who's already looking at her, and they roll their eyes at the same time.

“Sure, okay,” Maya agrees with a shrug. “If Riley and Cheese Soufflé wanna play truth or dare then let’s play.”

They all congregate to the floor to sit in a circle, Maya and Lucas doing their best to avoid each other’s eyes. Riley takes an empty water bottle from the coffee table and sets it in the middle before spinning it, hoping that it lands on either one of them.  

It doesn't. Not until after Farkle dares Noah to walk around the house on his hands, until after Zay dares Charlie to sing his favorite song (“Champagne Supernova”) to the prettiest girl in the room (Riley Matthews), until after Smackle confesses that she's never been to Coney Island before and Riley promises to take her one day. She's about to give up and suggest another game when finally the bottle pauses right by Lucas’ feet.

Riley's eyes snap up to his face. “Truth or dare, Lucas?”

“Oh boy,” he mumbles after seeing the eager look on hers, anxiously rubbing his palms over his jeans. “Neither of those will end well for me.”

“Truth or dare?” she repeats, firm.

“I'll go with,” he hesitates, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Dare. Give me your worst.”

Riley doesn't waste any time, doesn't beat around the bush, because this is her chance to finally get them to confess to each other how they feel. Though she wishes it didn't have to be in front of all their friends, she'll take what she can get at this point. “I dare you to tell the girl you love that you love her. Right now.”

His eyes flicker to Maya, obviously, Riley expected them to, but she's not looking back at him. For once, she's not looking back. Riley realizes then that Maya genuinely thinks that Lucas doesn't love her the same way, and it breaks her heart a little. All this time she's believed that it's been one-sided, that she's been the only one experiencing the sharp agony of unrequited love. How _stupid_ can two people be, really?

Riley looks over at Stephanie then, sees her staring at Lucas in anticipation. They've only been exclusive for about two weeks, so it's no wonder why she looks so scared at the idea of Lucas proclaiming his love to her so soon. Riley doesn't know which is worse: Stephanie warily thinking that Lucas is in love with her already, or Stephanie not knowing that Lucas has been in love with Maya since the whole time he's known her.

Maya's not going to stick around to find out the answer, apparently, since she stumbles up from her seat after too long of a silence from Lucas’ end. Riley watches as she almost runs out the door, trips on her untied shoelaces. Besides her lack of ice skating skills, Riley's never seen her so graceless before.

Lucas stares after Maya before deciding to follow her, not even bothering to explain to his girlfriend what just happened. She's not sure anyone even knows exactly. Or maybe they do, if Zay’s slightly smug expression has anything to say about it.

“Should I – “ Noah points to the front door closing for the second time, confused. “Should I go see what – “

Riley jumps up from the floor and dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “No! I got it, don't worry. She probably just ate something bad and got sick. Told her not to go near the shrimp salad at school today, but when does Maya ever listen to anyone, am I right?”

Noah furrows his eyebrows at her nervous laugh but nods his head anyway, and she rushes out of her house. She’s almost positive that they're going to be on the roof, so she heads there first, and hides behind the wall so they don't see her. Riley can hear them talking already – or rather, she can hear Maya trying to deflect the conversation away from their current topic, and she wonders what she's missed.

"Maya, talk to me,” Lucas says softly and reaches out for her, but then thinks better of it and drops his hand back at his side. That was a bad move, if Maya's face is any indication. Maya's always needed verbal or physical affirmation that she's needed, that she's loved – and that's exactly how Riley lets her know, with casual touches here and there, holding her hand on the subway car, leaning her head on her shoulder when they're watching a movie. So it must hurt a little when the boy Maya loves blatantly refuses to touch her.

“Talk about what, Lucas? What is there to talk about?”

He licks his lips and sighs, running his hand through his hair before stuffing them in his pockets. “About why we keep doing this.”

“’This’ meaning…?”

Lucas scoffs incredulously. “C’mon, Maya, I know you know what I mean.”

“I need you to say it. I need to hear you say it.” Her voice is rough, low, almost hard for Riley to hear.

“I don't – I don't love her,” he responds. The city is a quiet hum underneath them, the only sounds that of a few cars driving by, muffled by the drum of their own heartbeats. “Stephanie – I don't love her. Or Tiffany, or Rebecca, or any of the other girls before. I never did. And you never loved any of the other boys before either, and you don't love Noah now.”

He shuffles closer to her, and even from a distance Riley can see Maya swallow, her resolve crumbling little by little.

“And you wanna know why we don't? Why we can't seem to keep a relationship last long at all?”

“Why?” she replies, except it isn't audible. Her fingers twitch at her sides when her gaze drops to his mouth for a split second.

“Because as long as you're here, I'm not gonna want anyone else. I can't even _pretend_ to want anyone else. Not anymore. And Riley’s right – we can't keep doing this to ourselves, can’t keep doing this to other people.”

His hand finally, finally, reaches up and settles at the base of her neck, and she expels a deep sigh, like that's all she's been waiting for him to do.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” she asks him after a long and excruciating pause, pulling him closer with a finger through one of his belt loops.

“Whatever you wanna do about it,” he mumbles, and his lips are coming dangerously close to hers, before she puts her free hand to his chest.

“Not yet,” she says quietly, hesitantly. “Not until we break up with them first. We may be terrible people but we're not cheaters.”

Lucas’ lips tug slightly at the corners into a hesitant smile. “Yeah, okay, you're right.”

But they don't move away from each other, the light from the lamp posts washing over them in a pale yellow glow. If Riley was an artist, she would capture this moment with a sketch pad and some charcoal. But she's not, so she files the image away in her brain for safe-keeping.

“Look, Sundance, I love you, but I'm gonna break your heart, you know,” Maya whispers. Her tone is light, teasing, but there's also the insecurities that Riley knows runs deeper than the marrow in her bones.

“I know,” he says with a grin so bright it rivals the light of the moon and the stars above them. “Do your worst. My heart has only ever been yours to break anyway.”

“It might hurt,” she tells him. “I won't mean to do it, but I'm warning you right now. Just so you know. Just so you have the chance to run while you can. I'm giving you a way out here.”

Lucas shakes his head. He looks so happy to be there that Riley thinks there's nothing Maya can say to ruin the sentiment for him. “You can take your ‘way out’ and shove it up your ass because I don't want it. Hurt me all you want, Maya, I'm just going to love you right back.”

“Shove it up my ass? You've been spending way too much time with me, Huckleberry.” Riley can't help but agree, but there's a smile on Maya's face that says she doesn't mind it so much.

“So can I be the one to break it to Noah?” he asks, sliding his hand into hers, gripping her fingers tightly. “I never really liked him, you know. One time he tried to tell me that Pink Floyd is actually a _good_ band.”

“Because they _are_ , you dumbass.”

“See, but the thing is that I don't really believe you.”

“That's because you lack the proper brain cells to differentiate between good music and whatever shit you listen to.”

“I'm still not convinced,” Lucas replies and Riley’s heart is bursting in a myriad of colors because they're together, and they're laughing and smiling and – really that's all she has ever wanted for them.

*

So this is how it goes:

There's Maya, with her threadbare heart, and then there's Lucas, standing next to her, with bloody hands as he holds it together by its soft edges. She's punished her heart enough to last a lifetime so he's kind to her, gentle: gossamer touches like butterfly wings up her spine when she's sitting next to him at lunch, bright red cartoon hearts slipping from his tongue every time he speaks to her because he just loves her so much.

And there, behind them, the blurry versions of the boys and girls who cracked their rib cages open for them. And she thinks that they were only ever meant to be lessons for Maya and Lucas, lessons on how to love each other the right way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hey](http://lucayae.tumblr.com)


	6. anything it takes to make you stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: Lucaya fic where they are best friends with benefits slowly falling in love?  
> +  
> anon: fic where maya and lucas have liked each other forever but never get together because maya has commitment issues and lucas always thinks she's a mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from blue by troye

tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  
these, our bodies, possessed by light.  
tell me we’ll never get used to it.

 - _richard siken, Scheherazade_

 

It starts like how these things usually do: with a drunken kiss in a dirty bathroom and these stupid feelings getting in the way.

Charlie invited him out one night, to the bar near campus that all the students have collectively entitled as their regular hang out spot. It was nearing finals week so they're trying to get in as much reckless behavior as they can before they have to buckle down and bury themselves in textbooks and color-coded flash cards.

Lucas was more than ready to knock back tequila shots and lick the salt from somebody else’s hand, even though he knows his mama would shove him in the shed if she ever saw. But when they walk in, he's almost sure that Charlie maybe had another motive to bringing him out tonight, and that was in the form of a girl sitting at the bar drinking a Shirley Temple.

He cuts a sideways glance in his direction. “Something tells me you didn't intend for this to be a bros night out.”

But Charlie just shrugs. “What can I say? I'm a weak man.”

Lucas knows his roommate has had the biggest, most obvious crush on Riley Matthews ever since freshman year orientation when they were paired up together for the tour around the campus. She's never really shown an interest in him romantically, which is fine with Charlie, as long as he gets to be friends with her.

Riley’s sitting alone at the bar, twisting around on the stool and kicking her feet out of sheer boredom. Lucas knows she would never come out here alone, would rather spend her time chasing butterflies or reading Tolstoy, which only means that her best friend must have came along with her. Automatically, his eyes scan around the room, looking for the familiar head of blond hair and blue eyes. He sees her in the back corner, holding a drink in one hand with the straw between her teeth, flirting with a girl he thinks might be Missy.

“Come on, Friar,” Charlie mutters with an eye roll as he grips his bicep, drags him over to where Riley is sitting, “Nothing good ever comes out of falling for a girl like Maya Hart.”

Lucas sputters at that. “Who said anything about me falling for – “

Charlie's the one to cut him a look this time and Lucas stops because, okay, maybe he isn't quite as subtle as he might think. They each hop on the stools next to Riley and she grins eagerly at them. Lucas likes Riley; she's innocently sweet, with a backbone made of steel, and despite her apparent naivety she can be surprisingly perceptive.

“It's good to see you guys!” she yells over the music. “I was almost about to text Maya to tell her that I was leaving until you showed up.”

She tells them how she didn't even want to come out here in the first place, that Maya practically dragged her by the ear because she's been so focused on studying for finals that she's hardly had any real human contact in the last couple weeks.

“’It'll be good for you’ she said. ‘You need to let loose a little’ she said.” Riley rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her soda. Charlie grins slowly in response, ever so endeared by her. “Anyway, I don't even know where she went. Ditched me again to go make out with that girl – Missy, I think her name was. Which is  _so funny_ because just last semester she was complaining to me about how much of a witch-with-a-b she was.”

“Ah, speak of the Devil and she shall appear,” Charlie says brightly, his smile still in place.

“Always a pleasure, Charlie Gardner.”

Lucas swivels on his stool to see Riley’s best friend Maya standing behind them with her arms folded across her chest, leaning her weight on one foot. Lucas can see in this moment why some people in school would refer her to as that - as the Devil, he means. He's been going to church every other Sunday since he was a kid, so he knows about this kind of stuff. About the devil actually being God’s favorite angel, and the most beautiful, without the red horns or sharp talons like everyone thinks. He knows how tempting he can be, even to the most untainted of saints.

And she can do that, he thinks, when he looks at her and her smile is a little too sharp, probably considering which one of the three she wants to stick between her teeth, she can do that to him if she really wanted. He's a weak man too.

Her eyes land on him next and he swallows as he watches her deliberately run her tongue across her teeth, her gaze dragging up from his shoes to his mouth. Lucas has always thought she was beautiful, but in a dangerous sort of way. A way that makes him have to admire her from afar, careful to steer clear of her plum colored lipsticked grin and leather skirts.

A smile tugs at her lips then and she steps forward, leaning past him, her stomach pressing into his thigh, to grab the drink sitting on the bar counter. He watches as she downs his rum and coke – _who_ does she think she is – and he doesn't bother to stop himself from staring at the line of her throat when she tips her head back.

“Thanks for the drink, cowboy,” she says as she slams the glass back down, smacking her lips obnoxiously. There's purple staining the lip of his cup.

Riley rolls her eyes at her friend’s toothy grin and mutters, “Jesus, Maya.”

She snaps her attention to Riley and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Honey, you really need to let your hair down for once. It's not good to have a stick up your ass all the goddamn time.” Maya swipes the hair tie from Riley’s pony tail, her brown locks falling into place in perfect waves around her shoulders.

Lucas eyes Maya as she sweeps her own hair, even more golden under the fluorescent lights, into a messy bun on top of her head. He's thinking he needs a drink. He's thinking if Maya is going to stick around them for a while tonight he needs multiple drinks.

Maya grabs Riley’s hand and pulls her up from her seat, tugging her close. The thing Lucas has noticed about Maya over the years is that she couldn't give a shit about anyone else, not even herself, but she loves Riley more than anything. She might even be the only thing Maya will ever love in her life. “Riles, how about you and Charlie go out on the dance floor for a bit, huh? Maybe request a few songs? Smackle’s great at DJing but I've had enough of the dubstep. This isn't 2011 anymore.”

Charlie's looking at Maya like she's the second coming of Jesus Christ for finally allowing him an excuse to be alone with Riley, and Lucas is looking at Maya like she's the monster hiding under his bed. When Riley agrees, and lets Charlie take her hand to lead them through the throng of drunken bodies, Maya sits herself on the seat right next to Lucas. He eyes her warily as she orders drinks for the both of them, throwing a sickeningly sweet smile at the bar tender who drops her a wink in return.

He's trying not to pay attention to the graceful way she crosses her legs, to the tattoo on her ankle, to the way her shirt exposes the dimples at the bottom of her spine as she leans forward, to the sweat matting loose curls to the back of her neck. It makes him a little dizzy, how she doesn't even have to try to get into his head and rework the coding of his brain. That she's managed to make a home there for herself, it seems.

She takes a shot before she turns to him, her lips glossy and plump and he’s distracted by how much he wants to sink his teeth into them. There's a streak of purple on the back of her hand after she wipes her mouth with it, and he has this image of her leaving lipstick stains all over him where her hands can't reach and -

(Jesus  _fuck.)_

He knocks back a shot himself, sharp and hot down his throat, and shakes his head to rid his brain of all thoughts of her. Of course he finds that it's kind of hard to do with her sitting right next to him, looking like she does, but he tries. He tries so hard it's given him mind-numbing headaches.

Maya leans forward then, all her weight resting on the arm that she places on his thigh. She's so close that he can smell the alcohol on her breath, see the smudged makeup at the edge of her eyelids and the lipstick on one of her canines. But she's still the most beautiful fucking thing he's ever seen. He wonders how she does that.

Maya’s eyes glisten under the florescent lights above them and her teeth are razor sharp as she leans forward to pull his bottom lip into her mouth.

(He's pretty sure his brain just short-circuited.)

Her mouth is just barely hovering over his, hesitant, waiting for his permission. And of course she has it. So he grabs a fistful of her hair and tugs her to him and she's smiling against his teeth. It makes it hard to kiss her but he's not going to complain about it.

He thinks that if Charlie or Riley were to find them like this, he wouldn't really know how to explain it. She's never flirted with him before, at least he doesn't think she has, because he’s seen the way she flirts with people and he would definitely know if he had been one of them. It doesn't matter now though, not with her lips on his skin, not with her fingers in his hair.

Lucas stops thinking when she takes his hand and tugs him to the bathroom, stops thinking when she locks the door behind them and whispers in his mouth “it's just this once, okay? I'm bored and you're cute,” stops thinking when she hops on the sink and wraps her legs around his waist to press him closer.

And it's not his fault because he's pretty sure when she does that thing with her tongue on his neck it has the power to override every neuron in his brain cells that should be telling his hands to push her away, but instead he pulls her closer. He pulls her closer, and it's not his fault.

*

(That was a lie. It happens more than once.)

*

It's a Thursday so he's in the campus library, studying for his anatomy and physiology exam he has the next day with a girl that's in his class.

He's good at science, he needs to be, but he's having trouble explaining to Carmen that under the surface of Maya’s neck where his mouth was lies her sternocleidomastoid and under the surface of her side where his hands couldn't stop touching lies her external oblique and under the surface of the inside of her thigh where his tongue traced lazy patterns lies her gracilis. It'd be a lot easier to study the anatomy of the human body if he could  _just get_ the anatomy of Maya’s body out of his  _fucking_ head.

“I don't know how I'm gonna remember all of this for the test,” she mumbles next to him with a quiet chuckle. She’s tapping her fingers on the edge of the table insistently, the result of the four empty coffee cups sitting next to her. They've been here for the past six hours, only taking bathroom breaks or snack breaks so it's no surprise why anyone would be restless. “This is what I get for waiting until the last minute, right?”

Lucas hums his agreement, tells her to make flash cards and diagrams to help with their memory. It's thirty minutes in, when he's mapping out the process of action potentials and he wants to drive his skull through a wall that Maya texts him.

12:36 a.m

_u busy???_

He sighs. He really doesn't have the time to indulge right now, and he tells her as much.

12:40 a.m

_ur studying for anatomy class? i guess i can be a dear and volunteer my body as a demonstration to help you out. for science, obvs_

12:41 a.m

_let me come over_

A problem he's currently having is saying the word no to Maya. It's a lot harder than he'd ever thought it'd be. So he texts her _later_ and turns his phone off, tries not to feel bad about it.

Carmen watches him from the corner of her eyes. “Girlfriend trouble?”

“What? No – no, she's not. She's not my girlfriend,” he shakes his head and stares at the phone sitting on the table. Every time she does this, comes over to his apartment to fuck him, she tells him that _this is the last time_ or  _this doesn't mean anything, okay?_ Every single time. Like it’s her mantra. It kind of feels like she's trying to remind herself of that more than him, because he knows this already. There's no way he can possibly forget that as soon as she gets bored of this, with him, she'll probably move on to someone else.

And he gets it, he does. He doesn't know the entire story, but he does know that her dad left her and her mother when she was ten and it understandably fucked them up. Maya had to watch her mother struggle between boyfriends who were never good enough and raising a kid on a waitress’ salary while living in a shitty apartment with a leaky roof. Lucas thinks that's why Maya hasn't exactly had the best track record when it comes to the men she lets into her life. She's a walking cliché if he's ever seen one.

But he never asks much of her, only taking what she's willing to give, and it's okay with him. Really, it is.

Lucas doesn't realize he's spaced out, thinking about Maya again, until Carmen places a hand on his arm and asks if he's alright, if maybe they should just call it a night.

“You go ahead,” he tells her, focuses his eyes on the textbook in front of him and not on his phone. “I'm gonna study for a little bit more.”

“If you're sure,” she replies uncertainly, but she's already gathering all of her supplies, stuffing them inside her backpack. Before she leaves, she pauses by his seat. “Hey, get some rest, okay? It won't do you any good for the test tomorrow if you're sleep deprived.”

He smiles at her, which makes her tanned skin blush so prettily that he forgets about Maya for a second. “Sure thing. I'll see you later.”

Once she's gone, he spends ten minutes staring blankly at the book in front of him until he mutters “fuck it” and turns his phone back on. He tells Maya that he should be home in fifteen minutes, that he'll be waiting for her to come over, like he always does.

On the drive home, he pictures her face as he opens the door for her to come in, a careless abandon in the way she'll walk in and sit on his bed like it’s hers, and she'll let him touch her and she'll lie with him through the night until he's asleep and then she'll leave before the sun comes up the next morning. Her side of the bed will already be cold by the time he wakes. This is how it goes.

*

When Charlie was in his junior year of high school, he and a couple of his friends formed a punk band called The Romantics. Ever since then, they've had to replace some members several times to accommodate for work and school schedules, but Lucas has always thought they were pretty good nonetheless.

One Saturday afternoon, Charlie invited him, Maya, and Riley to watch them practice in his parent’s garage. They're all sitting on an old dusty couch with loose springs and torn up vinyl, and Maya’s shoulder pressing into his. She has a cold beer in one hand, lets it rest on her denim clad knee cap, the one without the gaping hole. Maya seems to be enjoying the music, bobbing her head along to the rhythm, a barely-there smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Riley’s like him and doesn't like punk music so much, but she's still smiling over at them, clapping after each cover song, supportive as ever.

“You know what you guys need?” asks Maya once they finish another song, setting the bottle down and standing up from the couch to walk over to them. She stops right in front of Wyatt, their lead singer, to grab the microphone from him with a sly grin. It reminds Lucas of the Cheshire Cat. “A female vocalist.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You can sing?”

She drops him a wink. “Better than you, darling.”

“Okay, why not,” says Charlie from his spot to the left. He fingers the strings on his bass as they start playing another song. Some Pink Floyd piece, he guesses. They’re Maya's and Charlie's favorite band. “Show us what you got.”

They watch as Maya hip bumps Wyatt over so she can stand front and center while Billy, their drummer, hands him another microphone so he can sing along with her.

“Maya sounds amazing, don't you think?” Riley whispers next to him halfway through the song. He looks over to see her watching Maya with unconstrained awe. “She's so talented, even when she is singing about fish.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, shifting his eyes back to Maya. She's singing into the mic as she rests her elbow on Charlie's shoulder, eyes closed and completely relaxed. “Yeah, she is.”

Lucas didn't even know that she could sing like that. Sometimes, when she's lying in his bed after and he's trying to stay awake for as long as he can before she leaves, he'll hear her humming under her breath. He never recognizes the song because he's only accustomed to the country variety or whatever’s on the Top 40 that week, and Maya's expressed fervently, many times, how she stays away from that type of music because she's  _so_ above it. Which is such a lie, because he's seen the songs in her  _guilty pleasures_ playlist on Spotify that she forgot to post privately, but he's not going to tell her that.

“She's probably going to make them sing The Beatles every day,” Riley continues, a warm smile on her face. “I don't get her obsession with them, they're not even that good. She's way better.”

“They're not my favorite either,” he responds. “But I wouldn't mind listening to their songs if she's the one who sang them.”

Riley’s quiet beside him as she watches Maya and Wyatt sing into the microphone together. And then he hears: “You really like her, don't you?”

Lucas looks over at her, but she isn't looking at him, her attention solely focused on the girl in front of them. He sighs deeply, resigned. “Yeah. Is it that obvious?”

She scoffs and shakes her head at him like she thinks he's so tragic. “Everybody knows, Lucas.”

His eyes draw back to Maya. “Do you think she does?”

Shrugging, she says, “Not sure. I wouldn't be surprised if she did, though.”

“I hope she knows,” he finds himself saying, “that way I won't have to tell her myself.”

Lucas catches Maya’s gaze and holds it until she stumbles on the lyrics, forcing her to drag her eyes away from him. It's a little satisfying, that she's not all unaffected. He smiles into his palm.

*

That night, he lets her in when she knocks on his door. She's wearing gray sweatpants and a burgundy NYU hoodie, her hair tied in a messy bun and he's struck again by how effortlessly beautiful she is, especially like this. She moves past him and settles into his couch comfortably.

“You should just give me my own key,” she tells him. “It'd make things a lot easier.”

But before he can respond, Charlie comes in with a plate of cupcakes that he sets down on the coffee table with a smile on his face. “They're fresh. Help yourself.”

“Wow, Gardner, how domestic of you,” Maya says as she grabs a chocolate one with red frosting, and takes a generous bite. “Hey, Lucas, can we switch roommates? Riley burns toast.”

“Nah, I'm gonna keep him,” replies Lucas as he falls into the spot next to her, swiping some of her frosting with his finger. “But you can borrow him on Mondays and Thursdays while I’m at Farkle’s.”

“Hey, get your _own_ frosting. I don't share.” Maya flicks his nose but he just grins in response. He’s about to try again, but she catches his wrist this time and holds it in place. There's a dangerous glint in her eyes as she brings his finger to her mouth, licks the frosting from the tip of his pointer and closes her mouth around it, her tongue warm against his skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“I am so not gonna be here for this,” he hears Charlie say, and then retreat either back into his room or the kitchen – he's not really sure nor does he really care.

Once he's out of the room, Maya sets the half eaten cupcake down back onto the plate and pushes herself closer to Lucas. Her fingers are sticky on his cheeks and her mouth tastes unbearably sweet and eager, and he likes this, with her, but –

Lucas backs away with a hand on her arm and distances himself.

“What?” she asks. The pout she's giving him is not helping. “Why'd you stop?”

“Not tonight,” he says, and he wonders if he's going to regret this. Probably. Definitely.

Her eyebrows furrow, confused. “Well, okay. I guess if that's what you want. See you tomorrow then?”

He laughs when she gets up from the couch, wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling her back down. “Where do you think you're going? You can still stay, you know. Just because we have sex sometimes doesn't mean we can't hang out as friends too.”

She contemplates this for a moment, chewing on her lower lip and staring at him like he's grown two other heads. But then she concedes, and sits herself back down next to him. “So what do you wanna do?”

Lucas can think of a few things he wants to do with her but  _not tonight not tonight not tonight._ He doesn't ever want her to think that this is just sex for him – that might be the case for her, but it's not for him. He wants her to know that he likes her, likes spending time with her, and they don't even have to be doing anything really exciting for him to enjoy her company.

Zay’s smug and all-knowing voice rings in the back of his mind - _Dude, you're whipped as fuck,_  but he ignores it because he's aware of its honesty. He's told Zay about Maya, and their arrangement, because it feels easier to talk to someone about it who lives in an entirely different state. Farkle wouldn't really understand his situation, and all Charlie would advise him to do is to “just tell her how you really feel” and he's not ready for that yet. Neither is she.

When he looks at her she's back to eating her cupcake, unaware of the frosting smudged on the tip of her nose. It's funny to him that, here he is, having this internal crisis in his own mind about her that’s pretty much taken up the entirety of his mental capacity and she doesn't even _realize._

“So?” she presses, her voice muffled as she speaks with her mouth full. “What, we're just gonna stare at each other all night?”

“I don't have a problem with that,” he tells her as he wipes the icing off her nose with his thumb.

Maya rolls her eyes and licks her lips, her tongue stained red. “Of course you don't, but let's go somewhere.”

They end up going on a drive out of the city with the windows rolled down. He drives slowly so he can look at her every once in a while and she pretends she doesn't notice. Lucas lets her mess with the radio, changing the station every three minutes to find a song that she's satisfied with, just to change it once again. She does a shitty imitation of some Drake song he can't remember the name of, and he laughs and shakes his head when she urges him to sing along with her.

(He likes her when she's got on her high heels and sharp tongue, but he likes her like this too. Her hair a mess from the wind, her laugh easy, and a soft smile to go with that soft heart. And everyone's wrong, he thinks, because she's not the Devil; she's just an angel who cracked her halo a little bit on the way down, that’s all. She's not as bad as they all seem to think.

He wonders how one girl can be such a paradox. He wonders when he's the one who became the cliché.)

It's a cold night, and with no destination in mind they figure stopping at the beach is a good idea. Maya hops out of the truck when he parks to lean against the fender, her palms flat on the hood of his car. He comes to stand next to her, watches her as she looks out at the ocean.

“My mom called me earlier today,” she says. There's a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down. “Told me that my dad wants to come see me.”

He's not sure what the right thing to say is so he lets her lean against him. The air smells like sea salt, and she's warm next to him. “Are you going to let him?”

She shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet. What would you do?”

“I don't know. I don't know what it's like to have a dad that left. But I think I'd let him. Just to hear what he has to say.”

“Yeah, but I don't give a  _fuck_ about what he has to say,” she responds, a bite to her words, and he feels her shoulders tense up beside him.

“Then there's your answer.”

Maya sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. He wants to reach out and hold her hand but he figures she might not like that, so he keeps them in his pockets.

“I just don't know how to stop hating him,” she confesses. “But I wish I could. It's exhausting hating someone like this, you know. And it's been nine years already, so why can't I just get the fuck over it?”

“I mean, you kind of have a right to be angry,” he says. “He left you and your mom, and it's no wonder why now you've got severe commitment issues and a sex addiction to show for it.”

She lifts her head from his shoulder to look at him when he lets out a wry laugh, her eyebrows furrowed and angry. “Is that what you think? That I sleep around with guys because of my  _daddy issues?"_

“Is that wrong?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Typical. Let me make this clear: I’d like sex whether I had a tragic backstory or not. I don't need a reason. Tell me, did you have a shitty childhood? Did your dad leave you and your mother? Did she struggle every day to pay the bills each month? Did you wake up every morning not knowing whether you'd have lunch money for that day? Did you have friends who didn't understand your situation making you feel guilty for complaining about your life?"

"No - "

"And do you like sex?"

"Well, yeah."

"Okay so, would you say that kind of shit to me if I grew up like you did? It’s like you think a girl can't have a lot of sex just because,  _god forbid,_ she likes it - there has to be some kind of sad fucked up reason behind it as justification."

"I - " he stumbles on his words, not entirely sure how to respond. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize - "

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I know how it looks. But you're right, partially, about the ‘commitment issues’ thing, I guess. I like sex because I like sex. But I don't get into relationships with guys because I don't trust them when they say they're going to stay. No offense, but you guys suck ass.”

Lucas laughs then. “Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” she says. “You may be an idiot, but you're one of the few that I actually like.”

“So what would happen then,” he asks, even though he knows he probably shouldn't. But she's opening up to him, and he's not sure when she's ever going to be this vulnerable again, “If a guy told you that he loved you – if he really, truly meant it. Would you not believe him?”

“You better not be thinking about professing your undying love to me, Sundance,” she replies sarcastically, but he can hear the warning in her tone.

“No! Of course not, I was just wondering.”

Maya scoots up on the hood so she can sit, and he follows her. “I think that,” she hesitates, measuring her words, “he may _believe_ that he means it, but it wouldn’t really matter because it's going to end anyway. People never stay together forever. It doesn't work like that.”

“You are actually the most cynical person I've ever met,” he tells her and she shrugs in response. “So essentially you're saying that you don't believe in love.”

“It's not that I don't  _believe_ in it exactly,” she says slowly, like she's thinking of a way to explain what goes on in her head. He'd really like to know. “It's just, no matter  _how much_ people love each other, it's not gonna last. So what's the point in it?”

“But you do love,” he reminds her. “You love your mom, and you love Riley.”

“Yeah because that's not romantic love. Keep up, hop-a-long.”

“Well, I believe in love,” he says. “And I get why you don't, I guess, because of your dad, but that doesn't mean that all guys are gonna be like that.”

She groans and rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Jesus, I don't need another lecture about how I'm wrong and how love is this glorious and magical thing that I'm missing out on and I just have to wait for the right guy to come along and it'll change my mind or whatever bullshit you think will make make me believe you – I already get enough of that from Riley. Did you ever think that maybe I just don't  _want_ to fall in love right now? Why is everyone so caught up on it? We're still young, and I've got plenty of time to worry about that kind of drama when I'm older.”

“I guess you're right,” he concedes. “But sometimes you can't help when you fall in love.”

“Well lucky for me, I haven't gotten to that point yet.”

“Yeah. Lucky you.”

*

They hang out by the beach for a while, kissing between talking and talking between kissing, until it's past midnight and the police kick them out. He drives them back to his place and he thinks that the harder he falls for Maya, the more she seems inaccessible to him.

Which is shitty, especially when she asks for his key so she can come back again tomorrow, and he gives it to her without a question because he's a fucking idiot and would do whatever she wanted. When she leaves, Charlie comes back out of his room to sit with him on the couch.

“Man, you're so screwed,” he tells him, an amused smile on his face as he takes a bite of his own cupcake. He bats his eyelashes then, and with a high-pitched voice says: “Uh oh, would you look at that. There's some icing on my finger, can you lick it off for me, darling?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

*

Lucas is heading out of his anatomy lecture when he sees Carmen lingering outside the door, waiting for him. They haven't really talked all that much, except for class related subjects, but he likes her enough.

“Hey,” he grins, “what's up?”

She falls into step beside him as they walk out of the science building together. He can't help but notice how pretty she looks, with her curly hair framing her face and a nervousness in the way she fidgets with her hands that he finds kind of cute.

“Did you check what you got on the exam?” she asks.

He doesn't think that's what she really wants to talk about, but he'll play along. “Yeah, I passed with an A minus. How about you?”

“That's great! I got an A, too,” she tells him and then clears her throat. “Maybe we should study together more often.”

“I'd be okay with that.”

“Cool,” she responds, her smile more relaxed. She tries to tuck her hair behind her ear but it instead chooses to remain untamed. “We should get a coffee sometime too, or whatever. If you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agrees. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fishes it out to see that it's a text from Maya. “I like coffee.”

3:32pm

_i think i’m going to let him_

“Hey, Lucas?” Carmen addresses, pulling his attention from his phone. “You don't have a girlfriend, right?”

“Didn't have one a week ago, don't have one now,” he replies. “Listen, I gotta make a call but I'll see you later, okay? Text me whenever you want coffee.”

He starts to walk the opposite direction of Carmen without waiting for a response and dials Maya’s number, thinking only too late that he should apologize for brushing her off like that.

When Maya picks up to tell him about what happened, she says that it's mostly her mother’s choice in wanting her father to come, but she had reluctantly agreed to it. He thinks that this could be a good thing, depending on how it goes, that maybe this is the first step in Maya learning to forgive her father.

Lucas doesn't tell her, but he's a little bit worried that this could also go horribly wrong. He knows Maya, knows that there's this quiet hope that burns inside of her, but the disappointment or heartbreak she might face could be damaging. And he doesn't want her to abandon her softness because of it. But he does tell her that she can call him if she wants, that he'll be there for her no matter what happens after.

He hears a breath of relief on the other end and a soft “thanks, Lucas.” That's enough for him.

*

“So is this like your thing now? Grocery shopping at 3am?”

Maya pauses at the end of the aisle, grabs a couple boxes of whole grain pasta from the shelf before tossing it into the cart and turning to face Lucas. He wasn't sleeping when she called him, and she probably knew this, but he was wearing Scooby Doo pajama pants that he didn't bother changing out of when she dragged him down to the 24 hour mini mart across the street from her building. She looks over at his mussed hair and cotton tee shirt before turning back around to grab some whole grain rice.

“Haven't been getting much sleep the past couple days,” she replies easily, shrugging. She pushes the cart to the next aisle to get some instant coffee and all natural sugar. “Besides, it's too busy in the day time. The lines at the registers are always way too long, and I've got shit to do besides sleeping with you, believe it or not.”

He gives her an eye roll and an irritating smirk that she decidedly ignores. Lucas retrieves the bottle of coconut water on the top shelf that Maya’s failing to reach, placing it inside the cart while trying to hide a smile when she grumbles her thanks. “Isn't your dad supposed to be coming in tomorrow?”

“Why do you think I'm buying all this garbage?” she replies, angrily gesturing towards the contents inside her cart. “I would never buy  _whole grain_ pasta for myself. Or fucking coconut water. For Christ’s sake, this man wants me to die.”

“You're doing a very good thing, Maya,” he tells her, although he knows she could not care less. “Making him dinner, hearing what he has to say. I’m glad you decided to be the bigger person.”

She just rolls her eyes and proceeds to the freezer section. “Don't get your hopes up, cowboy; I'm not forgiving him, or letting him into my life or anything like that. It's just dinner. I would have gladly given him directions to the nearest McDonald’s six hundred miles away from me, but my mother kept preaching to me about manners and hospitality and ‘an eye for an eye makes the whole world go blind’ type of nonsense. I swear, she's been hanging around the Matthews’ too goddamn much that it's becoming a problem.”

“For the record, I think maybe you should at least try,” he tells her as he watches her draw on the glass door, dragging her finger through the condensation. He clicks his tongue in mild annoyance when he sees that it's a poor representation of a penis. “But I get if you aren't ready yet.”

She sighs, wipes away the crude figure and replaces it with two stick figures, both of them with long hair, one of them wearing an apron. “I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that. And anyway, it's not like we need the guy – we've managed nine years without him, so I'm sure we can manage more. Although if he offers to pay for shit out of guilt then who am I to say no to such kindness and generosity?”

He doesn't believe her, doesn't believe this false nonchalance, because he’s seen that she still hurts over this.

“Hey,” he says softly and she looks up at him. “I meant it when I said that you can call me tomorrow after he leaves, if you wanna talk about it.”

“Yeah. I know,” she replies with a heavy sigh. “I can always count on you and all that shit, blah blah blah.”

He grins. “Finally you're getting it.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles and jumps inside the cart. “Take me to the fruits and vegetables section of the store, I don't know where that is and I'm tired of walking.”

“I can't believe your mom told you to do the grocery shopping. Does she not know who you are as a person,” he says as he pushes her around in the shopping cart. She's trying her best to keep her distance from the prune juice sitting next to her thigh.

“She had work all day today so she's sleeping it off,” she explains, poking at the can of tuna like it’s something poisonous. “Otherwise, I would not be here.”

“What time is he coming over?” he asks as he tosses in a bag of kale into the cart, along with a bag of oranges.

“Around twelve, I think,” she replies. “God, do you  _see_ this? Fucking  _lentils,_  Lucas. Who _eats_ this shit? I bet he's one of those people who grows this crap in his background and eats falafels and thinks almonds count as a desert.”

Lucas just laughs as he grabs a cabbage head, throwing it at Maya for her to catch.

“Mom was surprised too. She told me that he wasn't like this when they were together,” she says, toying with the rubber band holding the leaves together. “She said he drank too much beer and had Burger King almost every night.”

He stops what he's doing to lean against the cart’s handle bar. “At least he’s better now. At least his kids don't have to go through what you went through.”

“You're right, I know you're right,” she responds, her voice quiet. “But I wish I didn't have to go through that either. I wish we could have been enough for him to want to change. Is that selfish of me?”

“Of course not,” he says and leans forward, ignoring the bar digging into his stomach, to kiss her forehead.

Maya inhales a big breath and shakes her head. “Anyway, whatever, mom said to buy this man some pineapple. Where is that exactly? This place is like a maze.”

“If you would look directly to your left,” he says as he turns her head with a hand under her chin, “there is a sign right there that says pineapples. Can you believe it?They even drew a little cartoon version of one, so people like you will know where it is without even having to read. Isn't that great?”

“I'm gonna fucking kill you.”

*

Lucas doesn't want to say that he spends the next day worrying about Maya, but that's exactly what he does.

Charlie told him that he's going to study at the library with Riley for the day so that meant he got the apartment to himself, which also meant that he's got nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and wait for Maya’s call. It's a Saturday so there's no class to attend and he refuses to go out and see anybody just in case she comes looking for him.

When the clock on his bedside table blinks back  _12:30_ in harsh red digits, his worry intensifies. He wonders if her dad got there yet, if maybe he arrived early to show that he cares enough, or maybe he's running late and Maya and Katy are just sitting there waiting for him. The thought makes something ache in his chest.

It's three when he gets a text from Charlie saying that he and Riley have gone to the fair to take a break from studying, asking if he wants to come with. He thinks about it, but ends up declining the offer because he so does not want to be the third wheel, even if it isn't really a date.

So he plays some video games to pass the time, cleans his room a bit, Charlie's too, and does his best not to stare at the clock.

But when Lucas’ phone starts vibrating at around four, it breaks the silence like it’s a tangible thing and he reaches for it on the coffee table. He sighs when he sees that it's just Charlie again.  

4:12pm

_lmao fuck. farkles here and won't stop flirting with riley what do i do_

He smiles nonetheless, eager for the brief distraction.  

4:12pm

_tell riley you wanna go on the ferris wheel. farkle hates heights but riley loves colorful things that spin_

4:13pm

_thx bro <3 _

Lucas thinks he's going to go out of his goddamn mind if he doesn't find something to do while he waits so he creates a checklist in his head. He plays some music that he thinks Maya would like in the background, and he's thinking of making his monthly phone call to his mother a week early when he hears his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Maya's name flashes across the screen and it's like he can breathe again.

“Maya?”

“Hey, cowboy,” she says. “Whatcha up to?”

“Uh, lots of stuff. I'm a fully functioning adult with a very productive schedule, you know.”

“Oh sorry, is this a bad time? Should I call later?”

“No!” he coughs and sits down on his bed, resting his back on his headboard. “No, now is fine. I'm not doing anything anymore. Talk to me. How’d it go?”

He hears her laugh quietly, and there's something off about it. “It was…interesting, to say the least. The prune juice didn't go to waste, at least, it made my dad’s hideous touristy floral shirt much more festive when my mom poured it all over him.”

“So no feel-good family moment?”

“Oh, I felt good. That made me feel  _really_ good. But,” she takes a deep breath, “no. I couldn't do it. I couldn't forgive him, and I'm not sure I ever can, really.”

“It's okay,” he tells her. He slides down so he's lying on his back on his bed, an arm underneath his head. “You don't have to forgive anyone that's hurt you.”

“It's just…it would have been different if I was, like, two years old or just a baby when he left,” she continues, “but I was _ten._ So I remember him being there. I remember him taking me to school when mom had an early shift. I remember him forgetting to tuck me into bed because some football game was apparently more important and he'd give me this smile and say ‘don't tell mom’. I remember him hanging all the pictures that I drew in second grade on the refrigerator until there wasn't any more room. I remember their fights that lasted throughout the entire night, and I’d find mom sleeping on my bedroom floor in the morning. And I remember the day he said he was gonna get groceries for dinner that night, that it would only take an hour and he'd be right home. But then he just never came back. Lucas, I can't stop _remembering."_

“He was a shitty dad. You don't owe him anything, especially not torturing yourself like this.” His heart aches for her, he feels her sadness take root into his bones, and he wishes so much that he can take it away from her.

“I wish I could just be like ‘fuck you, Kermit’ but it's not that easy.”

“…Your dad’s name is Kermit?” It takes everything in him not to laugh and ruin the moment.

“Yes. And I give you permission to laugh or make fun of him because I don't give a shit.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “How's Katy?”

“She went to bed early,” she says. “She didn't say anything to me, but she's clearly upset. She didn't even have the energy to clean up the food that we made; everything's still sitting on the kitchen table. I don't think she can forgive him, either.”

“I'm sorry it didn't work out, Maya,” says Lucas. “I wish I could help.”

She sighs and his heart cracks just a little bit more. It's a thing now, he's noticed, that his happiness is directly tied to hers. "I'm tired, Lucas."

"Me too," he replies, but he knows what she means. "Come over. We can take a nap."

She's silent for so long on the other end that he thinks she's hung up on him, quietly. She does that sometimes, leaves him in such a way that he won't notice she's gone until his heart tries to crawl out of his chest to follow her. But he always notices.

"Okay," she answers then, and he breathes and everything in his chest feels light again. "Okay, I'll be there soon. Leave your door unlocked."

"You have the key, remember?" he tells her.

"Right, sorry. I'll give it back - "

"Don't bother. I'll just make a new one."

Maya comes in twenty minutes later, his key hanging on a chain around her neck, and she doesn't say a word as she wraps herself in his blanket, as she wraps herself around him. He feels her breath on his chest and his arms circle around her waist, his lips pressed to the top of her head. Lucas thinks she's fallen asleep until he hears her humming along to the Joy Division song playing in the background.

 _Love, love will tear us apart again_  
_Love, love will tear us apart again  
_ _Love, love will tear us apart again_

*

Lucas wakes in the middle of the night to find her sitting up against his headboard. He's watching her stare at his stucco ceiling, probably counting the cracks like he does when he can't sleep either.

She must sense that he's awake because she clears her throat before she speaks.

"Everything's always just so loud in my head, you know?” She pauses, and he stays quiet, patient. Her hair is a bed-ridden and tangled mess, lips raw and cracked from worry, and he wants to tell her that she can tell him anything, but she hopefully knows that already, so he sits and waits. He's good at it.

“But, sometimes, in the quiet moments," he's suspended in place when she looks over at him, and he can only move again when she glances back up at the ceiling, "I think of you."

He doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything. Maya smiles over at him then, crookedly, like it’s maybe too much confessing for one night, too many things that shouldn’t be said, that should be put safely away in a box labeled _open to your discretion._ So she leans forward to kiss his mouth and tug at the ends of his hair like she can make him forget.

He remembers when they first started doing this, how after, she'd turn on her side so her back was facing him. The distance between them, only a couple inches, somehow felt like miles to him. Felt like a physical barrier that only she could break down when she chooses. He doesn't really know what changed, but within time she stopped turning her back to him, and she’d curl into his side to trail her fingers down his chest, to kiss the freckles on his neck. He'd always hoped that she would stay the night after that, but she never did and he never asked her to.

(And he knows she doesn't love him the same way, and that's okay, really, but he doesn't think he can handle the way she whispers "I can't stay" anymore when their limbs are tangled together on his bed with his key wrapped around her neck. And he wonders if she can taste it, the love on his tongue, and maybe that's why hers tastes more like an apology.)

*

Band practice is usually Saturday afternoons, so that's where they find themselves the next weekend. He knows Maya told Riley about her dad because every time she messed up a lyric or tripped over a cord, Riley would make comments like: " _guys,_ go  _easy_ on her, her life is practically a Greek tragedy.”

“I mean, I wouldn't take it that far,” Maya grumbled, shooting an unsuspecting Riley a hard look.

Lucas knows that she's good at hiding the way she feels, that she puts on a brave face for the sake of others, and sometimes he wishes she wouldn't do that. She shouldn't feel like she has to.

They take a break a couple hours later, Charlie heading inside with Billy to grab a beer and some snacks for everyone. Riley’s talking to him about the basketball game last night when he gets a text from Carmen.

1:23pm

_So how about that coffee? Tomorrow morning okay with you?_

He glances over to where Maya's leaning against Billy’s drum set, talking to Wyatt as she twirls the drumsticks in her hand with fluidity. Her smile is too tight at the corners, her eyes too bright.

He should say no.

1:26pm

_sure. tomorrow sounds great_

*

“The  _one_ night you decide to actually sleep over and I have a date in half an hour,” Lucas mutters as he tugs on his jeans quickly, buttoning up his nicest shirt.

Maya's head surfaces from the sea of sheets and pillows. “You have a what?”

“It's nothing,” he says as he ruffles his hair with his fingers. He's looking for his shoes, the black leather ones, in his closet and, when he doesn't find it there, under his bed. “I'm just getting coffee with someone. Have you seen my shoes?”

“Well, who is it?” asks Maya as she sits up, clutching the sheets to her chest.

“A girl,” he answers absently, and he hears her click her tongue. He's feeling under his bed for his shoes, taking his phone and using the flashlight to make his life easier, “from my anatomy class.”

“So you're skipping church to go see a girl,” she says. “God is very disappointed in you, Lucas. There's no way you'll get into heaven now.”

“I think he has more damning evidence against me than just going on an innocent coffee date,” he says once he finally finds what he's looking for and comes out from underneath the bed with an “aha!” He sees her rolling her eyes from his peripheral. “Anyway, I don't even think it's a date. She never said.”

“God, you're a fucking moron,” she mutters. “Of course it's a date, I can't believe you're actually like this.”

He frowns. “Like what?”

“Nothing, just go before you're late,” she tells him as she stands up, wrapping her body with his sheets, shoving him out his bedroom door.

“Right, okay, I'll see you later,” he says as he grabs his keys from the kitchen counter.

Maya opens the front door for him with a closed-lipped smile. “Have fun,” she says.

Lucas only just realizes as he's driving to meet Carmen that he had cupped his hand around Maya's neck to kiss her forehead before he left, like they're fucking domestic, like he's not actually leaving her to go see another girl. While he's driving to the coffee shop, he pictures her in his bed, in his sheets that'll probably still smell like her until he washes it, and thinks, yeah _, this isn't gonna work out._

*

Lucas discovers that he actually really likes Carmen - she's cute, and funny, and incredibly intelligent. She laughs at his jokes even when they're bad, she likes the same movies as he does, and she does this thing where she furrows her eyebrows when he's talking, like what he's saying is actually really important and she wants him to know that he's got her full attention. And she likes him, so that's always a plus.

But the only problem is - she's not Maya. And he realizes now that he doesn't want anyone else if it's not her.

“Look, Carmen,” he says, regretfully, after they finished their coffee. The shop is busy around them, baristas shouting out orders and teenagers milling around, gossiping or studying. He licks his lips and taps the side of his cup. He really wishes he could like her, or even give himself the chance to like her, but he knows it wouldn't be fair to her if he pursued something with her when Maya's still in the picture. “I like you…”

“Uh oh,” she laughs in a way that isn't funny at all. She looks down at the coffee ring staining the table. “I hear the but coming.”

He winces. “There's…someone else.”

“You told me you didn't have a girlfriend,” she reminds him. “I asked you, and you said no.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” he says. “I don't have a girlfriend, but I really – I really like her. And there's something between us, I think, and me starting this with you wouldn't really be fair to anyone.”

She nods, purses her lips and glances away. “Right.”

He doesn't know what he’s supposed to do at this point, so he waits for her to say something. Maybe to tell him how much he sucks as a human being. But that's not what he gets. Carmen looks at him then, gives him a tentative smile.

“Tell me about her.”

Lucas blinks. “What?”

“About the girl you like. Tell me about her. You're a good guy, Lucas, and if it's okay with you, I'd still like to be your friend.”

It takes him a moment to realize what's happening before he grins and relaxes into his seat. “That's great because I don't have many friends.”

He spends the rest of the time talking about Maya, which makes him feel a little weird since this was supposed to be their date, but Carmen reassures him that it's fine, that she doesn't mind listening to him because she can tell how much he likes her.

“I hope things turn out well for you guys," she says sincerely.

He grins. “Yeah. Me too.”

When he comes home later that day, he half expects her to still be there on his bed, so he almost shouts out her name – which is absolutely ridiculous because she doesn't even _live_ here.

He decides to call her then, to tell her what happened. That he didn't get a girlfriend but he made a new friend instead and that's even better. But as he presses the phone to his ear and listens to the endless dial tone that tells him she isn't going to pick up, he sees the chain on his bedside table. The one with his key.

The silence of her absence rings loudly in his ears.

*

He sees her a week later at a diner he and Carmen decided to go to after their class ended.

They've texted, sporadically, throughout the week – him asking her how she's been, her sending him the middle finger emoji fifty-seven times. He'd ask to hang out several times, but she'd always come up with an excuse not to. And he doesn't understand because he'd thought things were okay with them, so why does it seem like she's avoiding him?

“That's her,” he says to Carmen, pointing at Maya sitting with Riley and Charlie at the bar. He feels a little betrayed. How long has Charlie been hanging around Maya without him? And why has he never told him?

“The blonde?” she asks, looking up from her menu. He nods in reply. “She's beautiful, no wonder you like her so much. Hey, if things don't work out with her, can I date her?”

He gives her a look but she just grins even wider. Lucas looks back over where Maya's sitting, talking and laughing with Riley and Charlie, and the burning in the pit of his stomach feels a lot like jealousy.

“Why don't you go over there and talk to her?” Carmen suggests, nudging his side with her elbow.

He scoffs. “I can't do that.”

“Well why not?”

He doesn't have an answer. Maybe it's because if she wanted to talk to him, she would have by now. But he's missed just being around her and, yes, desperation is basically his middle name for all the time he's spent with Maya because she's the most annoyingly  _difficult_ pain in the ass he's ever met, and she's beautiful, and maybe she doesn't believe in love yet – or ever – but he doesn't care about that because he just  _needs to know_ that they're okay.

So he tells Carmen he’ll be right back and she gives him an encouraging grin when he walks over to the three traitors he once called friends. Lucas clears his throat. “Maya?”

He sees her smile instantly fall when she hears his voice and turns around. Riley’s smiling at him and Charlie looks embarrassed. Good. He should be. Fucking traitor.

“Lucas.”

“I was just - I was just here with Carmen and I saw you guys over here.” He shoots Charlie a pointed look before focusing back on Maya.

Maya glances over his shoulder briefly. “What are you doing over here if you're on a date? That's kind of rude, asshole.”

His eyebrows furrow at her clipped tone. “Date? No, this isn't a date – we’re just friends. That's it.”

“She's not your girlfriend?” Maya asks tentatively then, the harsh lines around her mouth smoothing out.

“No. No - look, can we talk? Just you and me?”

“Uh. Sure.” She tells Riley and Charlie that she'll be right back, but they're already having their own private conversation. Lucas takes her hand and tugs her to the bathroom.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asks her as soon as he locks the door behind them.

“Maybe we should talk outside - I'm sure it'll smell a lot better than in here – “

“Maya, please,” he interjects. “Please just answer me.”

She sighs, biting down on her lower lip, avoiding his eyes. He wonders when she got so good at that, at being a ghost. Or maybe she's always been this way and he's just now noticing.

“I thought – I thought you had a girlfriend,” she tells him. “I didn't want to get in the way.”

“Well, if you had just talked to me then you would've known that I don't.” His voice is just a little too harsh, a little too bitter, and he knows she heard it.

“Lucas, if you want a girlfriend - now, or whenever - you should be free to have one,” she responds, “and you can't have one if you're sleeping with me.”

“I don't,” he says, taking a step towards her. “I don't want a girlfriend.”

“Well, you told me you were going on a date so what was I  _supposed_ to think?” She leans against the sink with her arms crossed over her chest. There's a hardness in her eyes that means she's closed him off. He hasn't seen that look on her face since before they started this whole thing. “I don't want to be your girlfriend, Lucas, and I know you. You're just like Riley. You want the whole suburban lifestyle with the white picket fence and 2.5 children. But I can't give that to you.”

“I know that,” he says, softer now. “I knew that when we started this, and I know that now. And I'm not asking for you to do any of that. I just - don't want you to disappear.”

She closes her eyes. “You deserve someone who can give you what you want.”

“I think,” he says, closing the distance between them to cup the back of her neck. Her eyes flutter open. “I think that I should be the one who decides what I do or don't deserve.”

“This isn't what's best for you –  _I’m_ not what's best for you.”

“You don't know that.”

“I do, Lucas.” She sounds so tired. “And I don't want to hurt you.”

He thinks that she's dug her nails into his chest so many times already he can handle the hurt. “I don't care.”

She mumbles, “You're making this really hard for me.”

“Let's just go back to how things were,” he asks, almost begs. “Please.”

“And for how long then? You know we can't keep this up forever.”

“I don't know,” he answers honestly. “But I don't want to end this yet, and I don't need you to protect my feelings.”

Maya sighs and straightens up. He thinks she's going to leave him again, and he'd let her if she decides she doesn't want to do this anymore. But she grabs the collar of his shirt instead and pushes him down on the closed-lidded toilet seat. She’s eye level with him now. “Fine. If this is still what you want.”

He grins at her when she sits down on his lap then. He runs his hands up her legs, over her knee high socks, under her skirt. The song playing faintly in the background sounds familiar.

 _And there's a taste in my mouth_  
_as desperation takes hold  
Just something so good just can't function no more_

“Do you love me, Lucas?” she asks then, in a whisper.

He knows what she wants him to say.  

“Lie if you have to. Please.”

“No,” he says as he drags a thumb across her bottom lip and his heart is the one that's stammering. “No, I swear I don't love you.”

“Okay,” she says before she kisses him hard on the mouth, balling the hem of his shirt into her small fists.

He wants to tell her that he knows she's scared, but she doesn't have to be. It's probably a lot harder for him – she's the one with his heart tucked underneath her tongue, all she'd have to do is bite down.

_But love, love will tear us apart again_

*

She was right, of course – this can't last forever, but he's going to make it last as long as possible. Because he knows he can't have her, really have her, like the way he wants.

And what he wants is to call her his girlfriend. He wants to wake up in the morning next to her, make them breakfast while she brews the coffee. He wants to take her out on dates, to that art museum that just opened by the school campus that she keeps talking about. He wants so much of which he can't have, and that's his own fault if he's being honest with himself. She told him from the start what this was, but some part of him hoped that maybe she'd end up falling for him too.

Which was a stupidly naïve mistake to make.

(It reminds him of this one line in this one song from The Beatles, he thinks, that Maya made their band sing last weekend. The one that goes  _she's the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry, still you don't regret a single day._ Or something like that.)

*

She texts him one day, when he's home alone while Riley and Charlie are out on a date like a normal couple.

_so i'm standing in the laundromat and i found one of your shirts mixed with mine and they started playing love will tear us apart on the radio_

Lucas is figuring out what to say when another one comes in a few seconds later:

_stop haunting me_

He wants to tell her that, if anything, she's the ghost in this relationship, and he's the abandoned house that she lives in.

(Sometimes he thinks about if his life were like one of those  _choose your own adventure_ books, that his story would probably read something like:

You let the girl with the shattered stained glass windows for eyes touch you and you're the one who's begging. And when she leaves you, you're the one who's sorry.

But he doesn't like to think about his choices. He never ends up with what he wants anyway.)

*

So he loves her. God, he loves her so much it feels like it's crushing his bones with the weight of it, feels like it’s branding his skin wherever her hands touch. He hopes they'll meet again in the future, when they're older and she's ready for him, because he has so much love in him for her that he doesn't know what to do with.

Maybe she'll let him tell her one day. Maybe she'll say it back.


	7. you're always home to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: au where maya's punk band performs at a bar and lucas is always there watching her play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like super short but anyway whatever the title is from all i need by foxes

Maya and The Harts play every Thursday night at this little known bar in between back roads and sketchy alley ways. He goes there to unwind after class sometimes, ordering an ice cold beer to loosen the tension in his neck and chat up the bartender, but also he's pretty sure it's because he might be half in love with the leader singer.

She’s in a punk band, so it's loud and messy, which, he thinks, should clash with Maya's rich and soulful voice, but it only adds to their eccentric sound. Lucas doesn't know much about her – just that she's nineteen, goes to the same college as him, and always orders a rum and coke before going up. When she's on stage, she likes to sway her hips and close her eyes, like it's just her and her microphone, completely unreserved, always running her fingers through her hair to push it away from her face. When she's off the stage, she's less sultry and generally more openly affectionate towards the people who come up to her, embracing them and pecking their cheek if they ask, always with a smile on her face. He's never seen her without it. 

Every week, he tells himself that she probably wouldn’t mind if he came up to her. He's seen her kindness, and he's sure she'd extend it to him. But the off chance that she won't, that she'll think he's creepy or not her type, is what keeps him away.  

“Dude, what've you got to lose,” Zay would tell him, shoving at his shoulder. “Just  _ go." _

But Lucas would just plant his feet on the hardwood floor and hold his ground, drinking his beer from a straw and trying not to look at Maya. “My dignity, that's what.”

But this Thursday, something makes him get up out of his seat. Something makes him move through the crowd and elbow his way into the front, where the staff is helping the band take down their instruments from the stage. 

He doesn't see Maya. 

There's a brunette wearing a green sundress sitting on the drummer’s lap, laughing and ruffling his hair. Another band member is sitting at the edge of the stage, scrolling through his phone, a camera resting next to his thigh, so Lucas decides it's safe to talk to him. 

“Hey,” he greets, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You guys were awesome tonight.”

“Thanks,” he says with a slightly crooked smile. “Maya’s out taking a smoke. Should be back in a sec, if you wanna wait. If you don't, it's just through those doors.”

Lucas feels the heat rush to his cheeks – of course he'd be that transparent. He nods his thanks and, before walking outside to meet Maya, grabs a full shot glass sitting on an unoccupied table and knocks it back with force. 

She's leaning against the brick wall when he comes out, a lit cigarette in her mouth, an empty glass in her hand. There's someone else with her and it makes him feel awkward, until she looks at him. She's wearing just a plain black shirt and jeans, and there's no way she's over five feet tall, but she has to be, in all honesty, the most beautiful, most radiant, person Lucas has ever seen. He suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands. 

“You lookin’ for something, cowboy?” she asks. It's not malicious, neither is that smirk on her face, but it doesn't make him any less of a nervous wreck. 

“Uh.” He shuffles closer, runs his hands through his hair so they're doing something other than twitching at his sides. “You.”

She raises her eyebrows, flicking her cigarette to the pavement before grounding it with the bottom of her heel. Maya unhitches herself from the wall to face him, slipping both of her hands into her back pockets. “Well, you found me.”

Lucas lets out a shaky chuckle, his eyes focusing on the brick behind her head. The person she’s with pats her on the arm and whispers something in her ear before leaving, shoulders brushing past his but he barely even notices.

“I just - I just wanted to say that I really like your music,” he tells her after clearing his throat. “I’m not really a punk music type of guy, but you guys are pretty cool.

Her smirk only deepens and she moves closer to him. “I thought you might. Like our music, I mean. Considering you’re here every week.”

He's finding it hard to swallow, the lump in his throat increasing in size with each step she takes towards him. “You noticed?”

“You think I wouldn't? You sit in the same spot every week, and this bar isn't exactly Madison Square Garden, you know. It's not hard to stand out. Especially if you're someone like yourself, Sundance.”

Lucas isn't exactly sure if that was an insult or a compliment. He'd be fine with either, to be honest. 

“Also, you know the bartender Missy,” she continues with a shrug. “She and I – we have history. We go way back. And, for some reason, she takes a liking to boys like you.”

“Boys like me?” 

“Mhm. All nice and pretty on the outside. Semi-tragic past and hidden flaws on the inside. She has a type,” she replies, leaning back against the wall. “I would know.”

He clears his throat again, decides to throw caution to the wind and just fucking stand next to her. “What about you? What's your type?”

She laughs something melodic, something so beautiful he has to stop to make sure he doesn't miss any of it. “Really? That's what you're going with? Jesus, I at least thought you'd come up with something better than that.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think I'd get this far,” he tells her. “So kudos to myself."

Maya laughs again and he thinks that's the best sound in the world. He wants to keep hearing it. “You're cute, I'll give you that. What's your name?”

“Lucas. Lucas Friar.”

“Nice to meet you, Friar. Follow me."

*

They end up in the backseat of her car. Not her car – Riley’s, her best friend. She smells like cigarettes and remnants of lavender perfume before she sweated it off on stage, tasted like childhood dreams and newly repaired hope. Her head is resting on his bare chest as they pass a joint back and forth, Maya telling him stories about her mother taking her to all these rock concerts when she was just a kid. 

She lived for those nights, she tells him. Walking down New York’s busy streets during the winter, the harsh winds scratching the inside of her lungs, huddled close to her mother for warmth as they ran as fast they could to get there on time. Sometimes they would take a taxi, but Maya says she liked walking best, liked hearing the click of Katy’s heels against the sidewalk, liked the press of her silver charm bracelets against her wrist when her mother held her hand before crossing intersections. 

When they got to the venue, Katy would sit Maya on her shoulders so she can see past the shaved heads and dyed mohawks. Maya never knew all the words to the songs, but she always had fun, clapping her hands when everybody else would clap, shouting when everybody else would shout. And at the end of the night, they'd come home to their little one-bedroom apartment smelling like smoke and sweat, and her mother would run a warm bath, and they'd fall asleep in a twin-sized bed, and it was okay. She'd always been okay. 

They don't do that much anymore, she says. It's different now than when she was younger – her mother is too busy trying to make a living and help Maya through college. “That's why I do this,” she says, “that's why I play. Partly to get a little bit more money to help her out, but also to remind her that music has always been there for us. I don't want her to forget that, you know?”

Lucas nods, listens to the rest of her story. She got her first guitar when she was eleven, but her mother couldn't teach her how to play and she never knew her father, so she taught herself. Everyday she’d come home from school and practice until her fingers bled. She failed math and science that year, but she didn't care because she learned how to play her mother’s favorite Sex Pistols song instead. 

He asks her how her mother’s doing now, and Maya smiles. “She came to a show last week. Her first one. I know it isn't ideal – playing in this dingy bar every week just to get some extra cash. But she said she'd never been more proud of me, so. It's okay with me. Right now, it's okay. And who knows? Maybe we'll get signed some day.”

“I have no doubt about that,” he tells her and she laughs. Maya stretches her limbs like a cat before sitting up to press a kiss to his mouth. He doesn't know what's going to happen later, after tonight, if she'll let him into her life. God, he hopes she will. 

“I'm starving, wanna get some breakfast?” she asks, reaching towards the front seat to grab her discarded shirt. 

“It's two-thirty in the morning.”

“What's your point?” she responds, crawling to the drivers seat, turning on the engine. Maya glances back at him. The full moon really doesn't compare much to the light in her smile. “You comin’ or not, cowboy?”

“Coming,” he says while he struggles to the passengers side. She's so much smaller than he is, so much more graceful, so he stumbles in his effort and almost twists his ankle. “What about your friends?”

“Charlie’s got his own car, they'll be fine,” she says easily. “I'll just text them later.”

She lets him hold her hand during the drive, and once they're inside with a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of them, she asks him about his story. “It's your turn now,” she said with a mouthful of breakfast food, maple syrup dripping down her chin. 

So, because she asked, he tells her. It's not anything original – he was a military brat with divorced parents, forced to choose between the two. He's with his mom now, in New York, while his dad is in Texas waiting to get his turn with Lucas, waiting to vomit bullshit about his mother and force Lucas to listen and take his side. It's what any child with divorced parents has to go through, and it sucks, but it isn't something he isn't used to. 

“What's your favorite place you've been to?” she asks him while stealing some of his hash browns. It's pretty empty in the diner, only another couple sitting a few tables away from them, but they're quiet so he hardly remembers that they're there. 

He would say something cool like California or Germany to impress her, but then he'd be lying. Because here, here is his favorite place. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won't laugh."

She’s grinning hugely already, smile stretching from one side of her face to the other. “Sorry, you can't make me promise that.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Fine. It's – it's here.”

“New York? Really? Not even like, Florida? Or Hawaii?”

He wants to say it's partly because there wasn't a Maya Hart in any of those places – at least none that were her. But he doesn't want to come across as too forward and scare her away before anything even happened. 

So he just shrugs, and says, “There's something about this place that feels like home. I've never felt that way about anywhere else before.”

Maya smiles then, genuinely. “That's good. That's good that you found someplace. It's hard when you feel like you don't fit in anywhere.”

“Yeah. Hey, listen, Maya,” he starts, moving the leftover bacon around on his plate with the fork. It's covered in syrup, but Maya scoops it up and eats it anyway. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I take you out some time?” he asks. He's finding it hard to look at her. “Like on a date?”

“Sure,” she answers. There's the laugh again, and it makes his insides turn liquid. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

*

Lucas meets Katy a few months after they start dating. 

She's standing front row one Thursday night at the bar, and so is he, because he's Maya and The Hart’s number one fan now. He starts talking to her before he realizes she's Maya’s mom, telling her how he's dating the lead singer, how proud he is of her, how she's got the best voice he's ever heard, how they're selling their EP for only $5 at the front, have you heard? 

She listens on with a smile on her face, and only when the band comes out and she points at Maya does she say, “That's my daughter, have you heard?” and a flush burns his cheeks. 

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” he stutters. “I - I'm Lucas – “

“I know,” she interjects. “I've heard many good things about you, Lucas. It's nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he replies. Now that he's paying attention, he can see the similarities between them: Katy's leather jacket and denim jeans, a smile he's seen on Maya’s face so many times he can draw it in his sleep, that mix of confidence and humility that must run in the Hart family. 

When they're done playing, they meet Maya backstage. There's people surrounding her, as usual, praising her and the other members of the band on how amazing they sounded tonight. Lucas and Katy watch from a distance, letting them have their little taste of fame before approaching them.

“So I see you guys have met already,” Maya addresses, a pleased smile on her face. She laces her fingers with Lucas’s, tugging him to stand by her side. 

“Should've known it was her by the ‘boys suck’ embroidery on her shirt,” Lucas says. “You have the same one."

“We made it together,” Katy supplies, leaning forward to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Quality mother-daughter bonding. Great job tonight, baby girl.”

Katy tells them she's going to bring the car around to take the three of them out for a late dinner, so they wait outside the bar. Maya's leaning against the brick wall, and nostalgia sucker-punches him in the gut. She's wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on her toes because he looms so tall above her.

“As a military brat, I never really knew what the word ‘home’ meant,” he starts, running his fingers through her hair, down her neck, “It was just moving from one temporary place to another, never sticking to one thing, never having the time to adjust and fit in.”

Her eyes watch his mouth as he speaks. 

“But if it's not obvious already,” Lucas continues, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, which makes her smile too, “you're my home now. I hope that's okay.”

“Of course it is, dummy,” she mutters before tugging him down by his collar for a close-mouthed kiss. “You'll always belong with me.” 


	8. tell it to the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: Lucas gets drunk and Maya has to take care of him

He shows up drunk at her door.

She thinks it's highly dramatic, even for him. It's 1:53am and she's in a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts, her hair in a poor excuse of a bun because she had been trying to _sleep,_  like a normal fucking person, when he woke her up. Maya gives him a flat look, arms folded across her chest, hips cocked to the side. “You're drunk.”

“And you're observant,” Lucas stammers as he leans sloppily against her doorway. He tries for nonchalance, but Maya thinks he looks more like he belongs in a frat house with six other boys in polo shirts and sperrys playing beer pong. “That's why you're the best artist in the city. With your atten – attention to detail. And all that.”

His words are so slurred that she has trouble registering exactly what it is that he's trying to say. “Lucas, it's almost two in the morning and you're _completely_ shit-faced – “

“Yes that may be true, but you're still - you're still beautiful,” he tells her, leaning slightly forward with his hands in his pockets so they're at eye level. His voice is a little muffled and stuffy, like he's on the verge of catching a cold. “So that balances out.”

“Balances out what exactly?” she asks, switching all her weight to her other leg.

His face scrunches up comically, stumped on the question. “I don't know, nature? The universe? Yin and yang?”

It’s abundantly clear that he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about and she really, really should be trying to sleep right now. She doesn't want to deal with a drunk and sick Lucas, especially after the week she'd had, staying up until seven in the morning completing her art portfolio, attending galleries and seminars on campus, choosing to stay late nights at the studio to finish a project and only taking a break to accept the bitter black coffee Riley brings her every six hours.

People tend to give her sympathetic and pitying looks when she tells them she's an art major, like she's never going to get anywhere with it because it's _safe_ , as if she's just wasting time chasing clouds. But they don't realize how much work goes into it. How many times she's contemplated dropping out of college completely because it's so fucking hard and the stress and hair-pulling at 3am isn't worth it. But she stayed, because that's just who she is, and fuck those people who look at her like she's somehow inferior to them just because she's not studying organic chemistry or going to Harvard.

“You've got six seconds before I close this fucking door on your ass. I’m tired, Lucas. Go home and get some sleep.”

He leans on his arm against her door hinge, head bent towards hers, a pout on his face. She hates that she can never really resist him. “But I’ve missed you so much and you're so pretty, even when you look like that.”

She's only slightly offended. “Look like what?”

Lucas motions with his hands to her general direction, circling his fingers, outlining her silhouette with his pointer. He makes a face. "Like you got chewed out in a paper shredder."

Maya scoffs in disbelief and rolls her eyes. “Oh, thanks so much, Sundance, that's exactly what I needed to hear right after you woke me up in the _middle of the fucking night."_

“I know my place in this relationship.” With a cheeky smile, he pushes her aside and lets himself in her small apartment. He knew she would never let him go home while under the influence of alcohol. He's so stupid he'd probably get himself killed and she wouldn't want that on her hands.

Lucas strips off his plaid button-up and collapses on her couch while she’s in the kitchen making him some coffee. It does nothing to sober him up, but it gives him the illusion that his head isn't about to spontaneously combust in the middle of her living room.

She appears a few moments later with a cup in her hand, and he sits up to take it from her, his shirt lying haphazardly on his tanned chest. “Thanks, Maya.”

“Don't mention it,” she mutters, sitting next to him on the couch. She watches him, the way he very carefully takes a sip so he doesn't spill it anywhere, a slight tremor in his slender fingers, the way his hair looks skillfully unkempt, the way he doesn't even have to be doing anything magnificent to amaze her. She really does try her best not to, but still she finds herself admiring him more times than she can count. “So what happened? Frat party?”

Lucas sets down the cup on the coffee table so he can sit properly. He rubs his hand over his face, heavy-lidded blood shot eyes blinking rapidly. “No, it was some kid’s birthday party. Someone I know from class. I didn't wanna be rude and say I didn't wanna go so I just got really drunk to pass the time.”

Maya laughs, shaking her head, and playfully punches his thigh. “You're a dumbass.”

“I think I'm gonna start a tally on how many times you call me a dumbass in a day,” he tells her, but he isn't angry. “Or even like within a ten minute time span. I can patent this into a game and make so much money I won't even have to go to med school anymore.”

“Well, can you really blame me?” She doesn't object when he lies back down, throwing his legs on her lap. Her hands rest on his calves and she drums her fingers on his jeans, scratching absently at the seams.

“I saw you talking to Charlie Gardner earlier,” he says then, one arm over his eyes. “In the dining hall.”

“He was telling me all about his extensive comic book collection. It’s pretty impressive.”

“What's up with that?”

She reads the tone in his voice easily, but ignores it to say, “What's up with what?”

He sighs and presses his lips together, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Maya’s seen Lucas drunk before, multiple times, because they are in college after all. He’s significantly more affectionate, especially around her, always has the need to be close to her or touch her in one way or another. He likes to compliment her a lot too, something he doesn't do all that often when he's sober, because they're still not clear on where they stand. Maya's admitted to herself that she likes him a long time ago, but until she's completely sure of how he feels she's not going to pursue anything with him. So it's even more confusing when he doesn't seem to be interested in her when he's sober, but then turns around and says dumb jealous shit like this when he's not.

“I didn't know you guys were still close, that's all,” he mumbles.

“Fucking dumbass,” she mutters under her breath with an eye roll. “We’re _friends_ who _talk_ to each other. Why does it matter to you anyway? You jealous?”

She's obviously joking. Kind of.

He nudges his knee against her side. “Shut up. A little. You were smiling a lot. I don’t remember him being that funny.”

“He's a funny guy. I would think he's cute too, if he wasn't so already in love with Riley. Still,” she responds, picking at the hem of his jeans. “But seriously, Lucas, don't be gross and territorial with me. That might've been okay with Riley, but it's not with me. And it's not like we're even – “

“Can we please stop talking about Charlie Gardner please.”

“Hey, buddy, _you're_ the one who brought him up – “

“Yeah, okay, you yelling is not helping my headache right now.”

“Okay, that's it – “ Maya throws his legs off her and stands up, offering him her hand, palm faced up. “ – you need to clean up and then you really should get some sleep because you're an annoying piece of literal garbage, so c’mon.”

He groans childishly and rolls on his side. “I don't wanna.”

“But you _have_ to,” she answers, mimicking his whiny tone of voice, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and pulling him up from the couch. “Lucas, stop acting like an incompetent five year old. You're not being cute,” she says when his body goes limp so he slides off the couch and lands on the floor.

“See, that's where you're wrong,” he says, his voice muffled from the carpet. “I'm always cute. Literally all the time. Just ask Riley. She made an entire collage of my face one time when we were dating, it was very sweet.”

Maya clicks her tongue, her patience growing thinner by the second. “You know one day I'm literally going to kick your ass.”

“I'm surprised you haven't already.”

“Will you get up? Please?” Maya squats down and pokes his cheek.

“Let me think – no.”

“Lucas!” She's the one whining now. “Why are you being so difficult? I'm trying to _help_ you here. Did you even hear me? I said please. This will probably never happen again, so I suggest you take this offer before I change my mind in three, two –“

He rolls to his side on the floor. “You can help me by leaving me alone.”

“No no no,” she objects, taking a firm grip of his arm and pulling as hard as she can, but even when he's not even trying he's still stronger than she is. She's so much smaller than him and that comes as a disadvantage sometimes.

“You weak, weak creature,” he mutters sleepily. “It would be cute, really, if it wasn't so sad.”

“Lucas, you are not going to fall asleep on my floor,” Maya warns him, pointing a disapproving finger at him even though she knows he can't see her. “You need to get up and change your clothes and brush your teeth.”

“If I wanted to get lectured at and be put in time out, I would have just gone to Mr. Matthews’.”

She groans in frustration while she kicks his back. He only chuckles. “You're _infuriating."_

“I've been called worse. By you, actually, but thanks for the effort.”

“Fuck you. You're the worst person ever. I'm gonna ban you from my apartment.”

“Fine, fine,” he mumbles. “I'll get up; don't you worry about a thing, alright?” She watches with her hands on her hips as he struggles to get up from his position. It's kind of amusing watching him stumble on his own two feet, tripping every time he tries to stand up on wobbling legs, like a baby horse trying to find its bearings. “Now would be the appropriate time to help, Maya!” he says just as he stubs his toe on the coffee table and falls over on his side.

She can't help but let out a laugh, throwing her head back as he stumbles through a few swears.

“Would you stop that?!” he exclaims, scrambling to his feet once again and holding onto the arm of the couch for balance. “It's not funny.”

“Nah, I take too much pleasure in your pain.”

“Well, I'm glad you're enjoying this,” he grumbles. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey, you put yourself in this position, remember that,” she responds, but moves to help him anyway because that's just who she is. Maya wraps her hand around his forearm, pulling him up with all her strength, and with great effort did he finally find solid ground. Lucas holds onto her hip to keep steady, and she doesn't think about the fact that his fingers are brushing the skin between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her shorts. It's definitely, definitely not doing things to her head.

“Come on, huckleberry,” she mutters, trying to drag him to the bathroom. “How you managed to get yourself to the third floor of this apartment building is completely beyond me.”

“There’s a homeless lady with a shopping cart that lives on the street across from your building. I just hitched a ride with her. Paid her with the five bucks I had in my pocket and some pickles.” He tries to lean his head on her shoulder but she's too short so he decides to rest his chin on the top of her head instead.  

“Do you just casually carry around pickles with you? Is this a Texas thing?”

“No, I was in the mood for some earlier, so I went to the gas station to buy some on the way here. Turns out that not only are they really delicious but they can also be bartered. Who knew, right? I love New York.”

“I swear to god, somebody dropped you down a six-story building when you were a kid,” she says with an eye roll, guiding him inside her bathroom and pushing him down on the toilet. He watches her as she takes a washcloth and runs it under hot water until it's saturated, ordering him to stay still. She stands in front of him then, right in between his thighs.

Lucas clears his throat. “You have a whole bunch of freckles on your face, did you know that?”

Now that he's sitting, they're pretty much at eye level. “This is news to me. I can't believe I look in the mirror everyday and have never even noticed.”

“You're kind of an asshole,” he replies as she gently pats down his forehead with the cloth to warm him up. Except it really doesn't work because her free hand is resting on his thigh to keep herself upright as she leans slightly towards him and he always goes a little dumb when she's close to him.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure we've established this years ago,” Maya says, but she can't help smiling a little at him. She wipes some dirt from his forehead, picks out a couple pieces of grass from his hair, and she has a hilarious image of Lucas tripping and falling down on his way over here.

“I don't want you to ever change.”

“Good. I wasn't planning on it.”

“Hey, while we're talking about this - this may sound bad – but you’re like the farthest thing from perfect,” he continues and she huffs in annoyance and flicks at his ear, “but that's a good thing, I promise. Because really the worst thing about you is that you're the most selfless person I know. You're like the mom friend. You always know how to fix everything and take care of everyone, and people may sometimes take you for granted, but we'd be nowhere without you.”

She lifts an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with an amused smile at the edge of her mouth, and he misses her warmth. “I'm a mom to you?”

“No, I mean, like – I definitely do not see you as my own personal mom – I just meant that – “

“God, shut up, I was just fucking with you, I know what you meant. But I definitely feel like if anyone's the mom friend, it's Riley,” she interrupts with a laugh and leans back in to him. “And why is me being selfless a bad thing anyway?”

“It's not,” he says, “but when it comes to the point where it constantly costs you your own happiness? That's pretty sucky.”

She grabs the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet with her free hand and decides not to make fun of how limited his vocabulary is when he's drunk.

“I know you weren't really sleeping, Maya,” he says then. She pulls the washcloth from his forehead to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed. “I know you've been up worrying too much about everything since the time I've known you.”

But she just shrugs, brushes it off. “It's college. There's a lot to worry about.”

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, to argue, but he snaps it shut with an audible click of his teeth. “Right. How could I forget about your tendency to worry about everyone else but yourself.”

“I'm not talking about this anymore. Come on,” she mumbles and drags him up. He leans his weight heavily against her, his arm banding around her waist, as they make it slow and steady to her bedroom. Maya dumps him on the edge of her bed so she can pick out some clothes for him to wear, a shirt he’d forgotten at her place at some point that she'd wear sometimes when she'd paint, and a pair of his pajama pants.

“There's paint all over this thing,” he says once she tosses the shirt over to him. “I actually kind of like it. It looks better now. You should always wear my clothes while you're painting.”

“Didn't know that was a kink for you, huckleberry,” she replies as she helps him put it on over his head. His skin is warm under her hands. “You're gonna feel like literal shit in the morning, so I'm gonna leave some aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table over there, okay? And I should probably leave some cough medicine since you're getting sick – “

“I always thought it was gonna be me and you in the end, you know,” he interrupts, sluggishly, and Maya feels all the air leak out of her lungs, the floor under her feet shaky and unbalanced. “Why didn't that ever happen again?”

Maya closes her mouth and stands up straighter, her arms falling to her sides. This isn't exactly how she expected the night to go. “I don't know, you tell me.”

He laughs, his head tilting heavily to the side. “I was an idiot, wasn't I? Back in school, when I chose Riley.”

It's been years and she knows she should've been over it by now, but it still feels like a fist squeezing her heart. Lucas chose Riley because she'd told him to. Because she'd thought she never liked him. Of course that turned out to be the biggest case of denial stemmed from years of abandonment issues any psychologist would have cracked open with bare hands, but. It’s not like she can rewrite history to her convenience. And when Riley and Lucas inevitably broke up six months later, her feelings for him were so buried deep within herself she wouldn't even dare to allow to open them back up again.

Until college, until she realized that living for other people wasn't exactly living, it was just existing. So she admitted to herself that, yes, she liked Lucas, she has always liked Lucas, but she can't do anything about it. Because she'd always take Riley’s feelings into consideration first before her own, and she'd knew she would have been angry and hurt. And Maya could not, would not, let that happen.

“Yeah,” she says, “you kind of were. But so was I. The idiocy was mutual.”

“I really liked you, Maya,” he tells her. “But I was a dumb kid. And I think about it a lot, you know. How I shouldn't have let you go.”

“That was a long time ago,” she mumbles. “We've both moved on.”

“Have we?”

“Let's - god, let's not talk about this while you're drunk and dying, okay? You sound so gross, I can't take you seriously.” She gently nudges his chest until he's lying on his back, and she pulls the blanket over him. 

“I know this is probably a shitty thing to say,” he says as he struggles to sit up against her headboard, “but if I were to do it all over again, I would have chosen you. I think maybe you should know that.”

“I could have lived my entire life without knowing that,” Maya says, the air suddenly feeling very suffocating. “But it's fine. Let's talk more in the morning, okay? Please.”

“I'll be here,” he mumbles, already half-asleep, flipping over on his stomach. “You can sleep with me if you want.” His voice is muffled by the pillow and he looks stupid, she thinks, with his face squished into her bed, lips parted. “I mean – like in the literal sense. Just sleeping, not – not anything else.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “You're so generous, offering me my own goddamn bed. I'll be fine on the couch.”

“Nnn,” he murmurs. “Maya – “

“The morning, Lucas,” she interrupts, bends down to plant a kiss on his forehead after he closes his eyes since he probably won't remember that part anyway. “We’ll talk in the morning.”


	9. meanwhile, the world goes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested lucas getting married and maya being jealous about it

The honk of a car horn outside her apartment startles her into motion. “Honestly, it's like he's never even heard of a ‘hey, i'm here’ text in his life,” Maya mutters as she grabs her bag, slips into her shoes, and slams her front door on the way out. 

Lucas is idling in his Jeep in a parking space and she rolls her eyes hard enough so that he can see it before sliding into the passengers seat. “My neighbors probably really fucking hate you, I hope you know that.”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” he grins and hands her a coffee before pulling out of the spot. “Your ever-present hostility sure is a sight for sore eyes.” 

Maya eyes him with distaste. “That's a stupid cardigan,” she says and Lucas rolls his eyes in response.

She already knows what this is about. He won't look directly at her, his smile is too forced, and his fingers are irritatingly drumming against the steering wheel. But she won't make it easier on him and tell him that Riley had already called her to warn her about the news last night. She'd like to see him sweat it out first.  

“You trying out for drum line?” she says instead, taking a sip of the coffee. “What's with the fidgeting?”

“Huh? Oh.” His fingers still. He reaches over to mess with the radio station instead, like he thinks she wouldn't catch on to that either. “It's nothing.”

She wouldn't exactly call him marrying his girlfriend of seven months  _ nothing _ , but. Who is she to judge?

“Uh huh. Right.”

He shifts in his seat like he's got something up his ass and this is honestly just unnecessary and uncomfortable. For Lucas, obviously, because Maya does not care at all that he's getting married.

“God, you can sit still, Riley already told me,” she tells him. As much as she loves making him twitch, this is on a whole other level. “Congrats, asshole, you finally found someone that can stand you long enough to fall in love with you.”

Lucas practically chokes. “She  _ told  _ you?”

Maya rolls her eyes and unlatches the glove compartment to grab the bag of licorice he keeps stashed in there. “You're even dumber than I give you credit for if you thought that she wouldn't.” 

“Remember to close the bag when you're done,” he mutters and turns into the plaza. He'd texted all of their friends to meet up at the smoothie place they frequent around noon, so they’ve got about a half an hour before they start to arrive. “So,” he begins as they jump out of his truck, making their way inside the shop. “Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?”

“Yeah. I assume I’ll be one of the groomsmen, so does that mean I have to wear a pantsuit? Because I’m totally okay with that. I look super hot in a pantsuit.”

He swings open the door and stares at her as she strides in, taking a seat at their usual booth. “So you're really okay with all of this?”

She gives him the best smile that she can. “Of course, why wouldn't I be? I mean, I may not exactly be Missy’s  _ biggest  _ fan, but you love her, right? You wouldn't be marrying her if you didn't. Plus, everyone knows that the groomsmen and bridesmaids always hook up, so make sure Missy brings her hot cousin - what's her name? – Isabelle, I think.”

“For you? Anything,” he replies with a sardonic smile and she responds by feigning a gag.

Riley’s the first one to show up, a quarter before twelve, because she's the definition of aggressive punctuality. She slides into the booth next to Maya and wraps her arms around her waist in a greeting. 

“Did I miss anything important?” she asks, glancing at Lucas. 

“Maya wants to fuck Missy’s hot cousin.”

“I meant something I didn't already know.”

“I just announced that we're getting married so nothing's really been planned yet,” he tells them. “Well, as far as I know. I'm sure Missy has a couple ideas already.”

“She's been planning her perfect wedding since she was eleven, she has more than a ‘couple ideas’,” Riley says. “I remember sitting behind her in the sixth grade and she'd just be sketching wedding dresses for the entire period.”

“Says the girl who's known exactly how, when, and where her wedding’s gonna be since she was six. You really have no room to talk,” says Maya. 

“Zay's already started texting me ideas for the bachelor’s party,” adds Lucas. 

“Ooh, can I come? There's gonna be strippers, right?”

Riley gives Maya an unimpressed look. 

“He hasn't told me anything about it, but I'm kind of scared,” he continues. “Knowing him, I’ll probably need to bring a helmet and protective body gear.”

“Smart thinking. Don't wanna damage the goods right before the wedding night,” Maya says and drops him an over-exaggerated wink. 

He rolls his eyes at her. “Did you body swap with a twelve year old boy this morning?”

“So when’s the date?” Riley asks, slipping a yellow highlighter and her day planner out of her bag, uncapping a pen with her teeth. “I need to make sure I have the week off before then.”

“She was thinking we could have it three months from now,” he answers. “On a weekend, obviously. That's the only thing I know for sure.”

It's the fact that he's so calm about it that throws her off. The pen cap in Riley’s mouth clambers onto the table as she stares at him incredulously. “Please tell me you're joking. You think you can plan a wedding in less than  _three_ _months?_  Is this also doubling as your funeral?”

“Does it really take that long to plan a wedding?” he asks with a frown.  

Maya laughs humorlessly. “Oh, honey.”

“Lucas, that's  _mission_ _impossible."_

“It took my mom and Shawn over a year to plan theirs,” Maya tells them. “You remember? She was almost bald by the time the day came around, she had to get extensions.”

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, wringing his hands together. “What did I get myself into?”

Maya blows out air through puffed cheeks. “Might wanna start looking for hair replacement clinics.”

“I mean, you're marrying Missy,” Riley says to him gently. “If anyone can get a wedding planned in three months, it's definitely her. And don't worry; everyone will help out.”

Maya pats his hand and gives him a cheeky grin. “You can count me out, of course.”

Riley gives her a pointed look. “We’ll split all of the tasks  _ evenly  _ between  _ everybody."  _ To Lucas: “It'll be fine, I promise; we can do this.”

Leave it to Riley to be reassuring and encouraging in a potential crisis. 

Farkle and Smackle show up exactly at twelve, sliding next to Lucas when they arrive and listening attentively to what had already been discussed before they got there. Farkle says they can handle all of the finance stuff, make sure they get the best options and, more importantly, that they don't go over budget. 

Zay comes fifteen minutes late, shirt inside out, pants unbuttoned. “Sorry, just came from dance class. What'd I miss?”

“You smell like vanilla,” Maya accuses, squinting her eyes at him in suspicion, as he slides in next to her and slings an arm around her shoulders. “And there's lipstick on your neck.”

“A girl fell on me, it's no big deal.”

“You mean she fell on your dick is what you're saying.”

He grins and winks at her. “You want me to give you a hands-on demonstration?”

“Don't be gross.”

Zay nudges his elbow against her side. “Come on, Maya, you know you're the only girl for me or whatever.”

Maya rolls her eyes and proceeds to fill him in, and when she tells him they have to do this all in three months, Zay laughs so hard he hits his head on the table. 

Once he catches his breath, he wipes the corner of his eyes and says, “Yeah, we’re so fucked.”

*

The four of them – Maya, Riley, Farkle and Smackle – have known each other since the fifth grade, with Lucas joining the group after moving from Texas in the ninth and Zay following soon after. They had all, of course, liked Lucas almost immediately, the shiny pretty thing they can play with, someone completely new they were eager to figure out. 

Maya thought he was cute at first, like all the girls drawing hearts around his name in their notebooks did, but he was always someone so distant to her, so different from her, that he'd ended up being more of a concept than anything. Someone to poke fun at during school hours and then forget about when she'd get home to an empty apartment with a leaky roof and a flickering lightbulb. She'd had more important things to think about than a stupid cowboy. 

But then in tenth grade they got paired up for a science project, and she ended up  _ having  _ to think about him, to spend time with him – at school in anatomy class when he helped her clean up the mess she made with the frog dissection, at his house where his mother would make her cucumber sandwiches and double fudge brownies, at the library when she’d accidentally fall asleep at a study table and he'd wrap his jacket around her shoulders. 

She never meant for it to happen, for him to become one of her best friends, for her to actually start to like him, a little. Never meant to learn that he visits his friends and family back in Texas every month because he misses them so much, that he keeps a crinkled polaroid of him and Zay at a Texas rodeo event in his wallet marked  _ 2008 _ in faded sharpie. 

He talks about becoming a veterinarian all the time, ever since she's known him, and says he wants take care of animals until he's no longer capable. He used to spend a lot of his free time working at their local library, building up his knowledge of medical jargon as he shelved the children’s books in the back corner. She'd tease him with her chin in her palm as she watched him try to reach the highest shelf, simultaneously reading from  _ Equine Internal Medicine _ in his other hand. But she's always appreciated how smart he is, in a quiet way.    

He only wears two different shirts a week, even though she knows he can afford brand names, but she found herself eyeing a red button-up at the mall one day, imagining him rolling up the sleeves to his elbows, giving her a sheepish yet grateful smile as he thanked her for thinking of him. So she bought it for him, hid the bag underneath her bed and waited four months until she could wrap it up and toss it to him with a  _ Merry Christmas  _ and a nonchalant shrug when he told her she really didn't have to get him anything. But she just took his crooked smile with open palms and stuck it in her back pocket for safe keeping.    

He's funny sometimes, and he's loyal to those that he loves always, and when he's nervous he fidgets with his hands so much that Maya has to resist the urge to reach out and hold them. She's not sure exactly when it happened, but Lucas turned out to be more than just a pretty face and a funny accent. 

So of course now she's in love with him. And of course he's marrying another girl. Which is fine, honestly. She’s gotten used to disappointment. 

*

“Instead of hiring a photographer, why don't we just have Shawn do it?” Maya asks one night. They're sitting in the middle of Riley’s floor, folders opened out in front of them, and this is the most work Maya's done since her senior year of high school. “It’d be a lot cheaper.”

“Good idea; I'll add that to the list and send this stuff to Farkle,” she answers absentmindedly, writing fervently in her notepad. “He's been going back and forth with Missy all week because she has a knack for picking out the most expensive things so he has to constantly remind her that they have to be smart about their budget. Which is something that she evidently refuses to understand.”

Maya hums and stretches out her limbs, resting her head on her arms for a short break. It's just past 12 a.m and Riley’s room is starting to stink with the leftover Chinese and exhaustion. “Maybe we should take a break. Do some more tomorrow when I don't feel like my head’s about to explode.”

She glances up to look at Maya, taking in how she's sliding further and further to the ground until she's completely lying down. Riley still has some momentum left so she's not stopping yet. “You go ahead and take a nap. I'll keep going.”

“You should sleep too,” Maya mumbles. “Sleep is good. I love sleep. Sleep never disappoints.”

Riley smiles fondly at her. “I know. It's fine; you deserve some rest. I can’t imagine how this must make you feel.”

Her eyes snap open and she narrows them at Riley, her words a kickstart that sends the beat of Maya’s heart into overdrive. “What's that supposed to mean?”

She tilts her head in slight exasperation. “Come on, Maya. You know exactly what I'm talking about.”

“No, I don't. Why don't you explain it to me?”

Riley sets her lips in a thin line before replying, “You really wanna do this? You really wanna go there right now?”

Maya lifts an eyebrow. She's not going to be the one to admit it. 

Her best friend rolls her eyes to the ceiling in the universal sign of annoyance. “We all know how you feel about Lucas. I get how uncomfortable this must make you feel to be planning his wedding with another woman.”

“I'm fine,” she murmurs through a clenched jaw, but she gives herself away when she refuses to maintain eye contact. “It doesn't matter anyway.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” Riley suggests as gently as she can, as usual. She pushes the files away and scoots towards Maya. “I think it'd do you some good.”

But Maya's already shaking her head before she can even finish her sentence. “No. I'm not doing that. I'm not going to be that girl that ruins Lucas’s wedding because of my stupid feelings, so just get that thought out of your head right now.”

“Maya, if he loves you back then you'd be doing everyone a favor. Saving both of them from going through an already doomed marriage,” she reasons, grabbing her hand and gripping it tightly. “And if he doesn't, then you'll know. And he'll marry Missy and you'll move on.”

She bites the corner of her bottom lip, eyes dropping to their clasped hands. It makes sense, what Riley’s saying, but she just can't see herself doing that. She doesn't want to put that burden on him, whether he loves her back or not, right before he's about to get married. “I can't. I can't do it, and I'm just going to have to live with that. So let it go, okay?”

Riley doesn't say anything for a while, just looks at her like she's making the biggest mistake of her life, and maybe she is. But she's dealt with worse things before. She'll get over him, eventually. She'll be okay.  

“I think you're wrong,” she says finally. “But I'll try to respect your decision.”

“I know that must be hard for you,” Maya replies drily. 

“Catastrophically.”

*

The night before the wedding, after the bachelorette party that Maya had to force herself to enjoy, she sits up on the roof of her and Riley's apartment building. It's the start of Spring, so the night air is still a bit chilly enough that Maya had to wrap herself up in a leather jacket, realizing only too late that it belongs to Lucas, the scent of him clinging to her skin. She can’t remember why she has it in the first place. 

Riley’s still probably trying to get Missy to calm down after she'd had one too many tequila shots and threw up on her princess sash and gold sequined dress. She'd leaned her head on the toilet seat and cried about cold feet while Maya petted her hair, so she had to get out of there before she said something she'd regret. 

Maya hears footsteps in the distance and knows it's him without even having to turn her head. 

“Hey,” he says and sits down next to her, a bottle of sparkling apple cider in one hand and two scotch glasses in the other. She smiles as she accepts one of them. “You doing okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” she mumbles. “You're the one getting married in a few hours.”

“I'm fine. I'm great. I'm ready,” he says, his words slurring a little. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

“Thanks, I’m keeping it.” Maya glances up at him finally as she takes a sip of the juice. He's more than a little tipsy, his hair sticking up on its ends but still perfect, a crooked grin on his mouth that she tries not to stare too long at. She looks back down at the glass in her hand. “Remember when we were thirteen and used to pour apple juice into my dad’s whiskey glass and pretend we were older than we were.”

He nods at the memory. “You were good at pretending to be drunk.”

She shrugs. “Learned from observation.”

Lucas quiets and leans back on his palms. “Do you think I'm too young to get married?”

Maya looks at him over her shoulder. She does, honestly. Just barely twenty-two and he's already making such life-changing decisions like marriage. “Do you?”

“I don't know what to think anymore,” he says, his voice soft. The city is alive tonight, cars and motorcycles leaving ash-colored smoke as they fly through the streets, girls’ laughter floating towards the sky as they trip over their high heels, boys scraping their knees as they crash onto cracked pavement from trying to catch the moon beams with closed fists. Maya likes it better up here though, where it's quiet, with just the two of them. “We're not gonna stop hanging out, are we? After I get married?”

“Why would we do that?” she asks. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't thought about this. The worst thing that could happen wouldn't be the wedding itself, but later on, when they inevitably drift apart. And aside from Riley, he's her best friend; it would destroy her if that happens. 

Lucas shrugs. “Everything changes when you’re married. Missy says we have to start looking for other married couples to hang out with now.”

“Missy's stupid.”

“Hey, that's my fiancé you're talking about.”

“Which only furthers my point.”

He sits up and rests his elbows on bent knees, watching her carefully. She hates when he does that. “In eleventh grade, you said that you'd never wanna get married because of what happened with your parents. Is that still true?”

She’s shocked for a moment that he'd even remember something she mentioned off-handedly five years ago. “I don't know. Maybe if it was the right person, I'd change my mind.”

“How do you know if it's the right person?” he asks, and he sounds almost desperate, as if her answer decides the fate of his entire life. He's always been good at that, at putting all of his faith in her. 

“You just…know,” Maya answers lamely, unhelpfully. In the distance, someone is shouting apologies out of an open window. She thinks of Missy crying in the bathroom. She thinks of Lucas sitting next to her. “I guess it's being scared of what committing your entire lives to each other means, but also being really excited about it because you can't imagine doing that with anyone else. Does Missy make you feel like that?”

He's looking out toward the horizon when she glances at him. The sun is just barely peeking through the clouds now and there's a kind of stillness that blankets the world when dawn is breaking. Lucas twirls the liquid in his glass and mutters, “Really kinda wish this was vodka.”

“I can't believe Missy actually made this wedding happen in three months,” she says instead, tapping her fingernail against the side of the glass. “She's pretty amazing.”

“Yeah,” he answers noncommittally. “But you guys helped too. Wouldn't have happened if it weren't for your help.”

“She worked hard. She's always worked hard,” Maya continues as if he hadn't spoken. “She deserves someone who's going to give her 110%.”

“You think I can be that person?” he asks. 

She thinks he can. She thinks he's always been that person, with her. When Maya’s dad left her and Katy, he was there to duct tape the left over pieces back together even when she tried so hard to push him away. He was there when she decided to major in studio art, there when Riley left to study abroad in London for their second year of college and took Maya’s piece of mind, there when she couldn't afford to keep paying for her dorm room so he let her stay with him until she could. There to laugh at her jokes even if it was at his own expense, to encourage her through self-doubt episodes, to pluck at the strings of her guitar in his kitchen as she cooked breakfast in the mornings. To help her sleep at night. He gets under her skin sometimes, but he was  _ there.  _ He's always been there.

So, yeah, when she thinks of Lucas, she thinks of a quiet place to exist, a safe place to lean some of her weight on without fear of the whole sky falling down. 

She nudges his knee with hers and the confession is sweet on her tongue. But she swallows it back down and sticks with, “I didn't know you could be anybody else.”

*

Maya slaps her hand on the counter. “Hey, if at any point during the day you see that this glass is empty, it's your job to make sure that it's not, got it?”

Charlie, the bartender, raises his eyebrows and swipes the tequila bottle, pouring a shot into her glass and leaving the rest next to her. 

She grins. “Good job, this is exactly the kinda service I'm paying you for.”

He gives her an unimpressed look and says, “You're not paying me at all,” before walking away to serve someone else. 

“Hey, not with that attitude!”

The wedding’s in two and a half hours and the place is a goddamn mess behind the scenes. Missy’s veil has gone missing and she obviously  _ cannot get married _ without it so she's running around her dressing room in a panic with Riley texting Maya  _ I'm gonna need you to kill her for me  _ updates every four seconds. She's just glad she doesn't have to pretend to care about any of it, instead slumping down in the seat next to Zay. 

“Hey, sugar,” he greets. “Why do you look like somebody just told you your ferret got hit by a car?”

“I think I ate something bad,” she tells him and rubs her belly. “I don't feel too good.”

Zay slings an arm around her shoulders. “Or maybe it's the three shots of whiskey you had before you even got here.”

“Could be. But I think it was the crab cake.”

“Or, you know, the fact that Lucas is getting married to somebody that's not you,” he says, so matter-of-fact that it makes her stomach nauseous all over again.  

“That doesn't sound right. Maybe you should stop with the suggestions because you really don't know what you're talking about.”

He laughs and takes the flask she'd gotten Charlie to fill up earlier, tipping it back as he steals a generous amount. She doesn't have the energy to pretend to be angry. 

“He’s an idiot,” is all he says. 

“Yeah,” she replies with a sigh and relaxes against him. “But we already knew that.”

*

Maya manages to avoid running into him for the next two hours, even after Riley’s  _ he wants to talk to you  _ text that’s immediately followed with a  _ now’s your chance!!!!  _

She's not about to get in the middle of this, so she hides in a bathroom stall until it's time. As the clock in the corner ticks in what seems like an impossibly slow rate, Maya begins to wonder how she got here: sitting on the toilet in a fancy dress with her mouth curled around the lip of a flask while the boy she's in love with is about to get married to someone else. She's supposed to be above this. She's  _ Maya Hart.  _ Since when does she pine away like this? It's pathetic. 

When she hears the church bells, she stands up on unsteady legs. “Oh boy,” she giggles, her palm flat on the bathroom wall. “I'm a little drunk.”

She makes her way inside and realizes that  _ oh shit,  _ she's a bridesmaid. There's a room where Riley told them all to meet but she can't remember exactly where that is, so she wanders around the chapel until she sees someone vaguely familiar. 

“Hey! Hey, you, what's your name?” she calls out. 

The older lady spins around at the sound of Maya’s voice. “Sorry?”

“Your na- never mind, that's not important. Where am I supposed to go? I'm a - I'm a bridesgroom. A bridesmaid. Actually - where's Riley? Do you know where _Riley_ _Matthews_ is? Brown hair, big personality, this tall – “

It's like the mention of her name summons her into being because the next thing Maya knows Riley’s there, apologizing to the lady that happened to be Missy’s aunt, and dragging Maya to a nearby room. “Your breath smells like tequila,” she hisses. “Where have you been? The wedding’s starting in two minutes!”

“How good do they look together?” she asks, leaning against Riley. “I'm sure they look great. Lucas is so handsome. He pro’ly looks so handsome in a suit.”

Riley’s eyes soften then. “You have to walk down that aisle in thirty seconds, peaches. Are you ready?”

“Oh! Am I getting married? Is it to Lucas?”

“No, Maya, it’s Zay, remember him?” she says and grabs Zay’s shoulder to push him next to her. “She's a mess. Make sure she doesn't trip and fall.”

Zay grins down at Maya and grabs her arm to curl it around his. “This is gonna be great. I'm excited.”

Maya pouts at him. “I don't wanna marry you.”

“Good. ‘Cause I already got my eye on a pretty brunette so just walk with me and smile,” he grimaces when he looks at her, pressing his thumb into the crease in the middle of her forehead, “and at least try to pretend like you're enjoying this and not actually imagining throwing yourself off the nearest balcony.”

“I'm good at pretending, I can do this.”

The music starts and that's their cue to go. First it’s Smackle and Farkle, and then Missy’s cousin and her boyfriend, and finally Maya and Zay. He holds onto her tightly to make sure she doesn’t trip down the aisle and she does her best to focus on not letting her eyes find Lucas. But she's weak, and when she looks to the right, he's already looking back at her. 

“Zay, I lied, I can't do this,” she whispers to him. 

“We're almost there,” he replies. “Come on, just like three more feet.”

“I feel like I'm gonna throw up.”

He throws her a panicked look. “Swallow it. This is an expensive suit.”

She nods and he hastens their steps until they have to separate. Auggie walks next as the ring bearer, and then Riley as the flower girl. Maya takes a deep breath then, closing her eyes when she hears the organs swell the wedding march. She doesn't have to watch this if she doesn't want to. 

The priest starts talking and her eyes are still closed, the words dissolving and disappearing before they can reach her ears. 

An elbow jabs her in the side and her eyes fly open to see Riley glaring at her. “Don't fall asleep.”

“I wasn't sleeping,” she tells her and steals a quick glance at Missy. She looks beautiful, obviously, even though she can only see her back. And she's still marrying Lucas so Maya closes her eyes again. “It doesn't hurt as much if I can't see what's happening.”

Riley's mouth thins and she turns back to face the couple. 

“If anybody has any objections, please speak now or forever – “

Maya's eyes snap open once again when she hears Riley’s, “I object!” and a collective gasp from everyone in the room. 

“Riley, what the hell are you – “

“I object to the matrimony of this here couple standing before us,” she continues in a dramatic flare, stepping forward. “These two cannot get married right now at this moment in time.”

Maya doesn't know if she's imagining the relief that sags Missy’s body, but she knows she's not imagining the look Lucas throws her way. 

“There must be a reason of legality – “

“There is,” Rileys says. “The bride and groom don't love each other the way they're supposed to when you're marrying someone. But someone else here does.”

“Riley, get back here,” Maya hisses. She chances a glance at the audience, wincing at all the scandalized faces. She feels sorry for Missy and her family. She can't imagine what they must think.

“That's not a justifiable cause, so, if there's no other reason, then I don't see why we can't continue – “

“Wait!” Missy exclaims and Maya feels like she must be hallucinating this entire thing. “I need to speak with Lucas. Please, just one moment.”

Maya watches with a sort of detached interest as the two rush out of the chapel together, hand-in-hand. She spins around to face Riley. “What the fuck is the matter with you, huh? Are you out of your  _ mind?" _

“I did the right thing,” she whispers back calmly. “I couldn't let that happen.”

“Yes, you could have,” Maya shoots back. “It's easy. All you had to do was stand there and keep your mouth shut until the ceremony was over.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don't tell me you're not at least a little bit relieved.”

“That's not the point – “ she hesitates before adding: “They could still get married.”

Riley laughs. “Sure, okay, if that makes you feel better.”

It doesn't, at all, so Maya walks out. 

*

Maya's sitting on the church steps when he sits down on the step above her. She glances over her shoulder to see that he's ditched his jacket, loosened the top buttons of his shirt, and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Her eyes flicker down to his hand. No wedding band. The relief floods her blood system, pumping adrenaline throughout her veins instead of oxygen. 

“Wild day, am I right?” she starts after it's been a moment too long of him just looking at her. 

“I was supposed to get married today,” he says. She can't really tell if he's angry – although there's no reason why he should be angry with her since it was Riley who technically ruined the wedding. “My family was sitting there, in the front row, watching me on what was going to be one of the most important days of my life.”

“Yeah, I was there, remember?” She points to herself. “Got dressed up and everything.”

“So what happened?”

“Did you suddenly get amnesia? Lucas, do you remember what year we’re in?” 

“Maya,” his voice is firm, unrelenting, “what did Riley mean when she said that it should've been someone else?”

“I dunno,” she answers, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Why don't you take a survey and find out?”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s frustrating how it still manages to look perfect. “Don't – don’t do that. It's been a really long day, so please, just - don't fight me on this.”

Maya turns around so he's facing her back instead. “So if you already know, why are you asking? Fishing for compliments is annoying and unattractive.”

“Just tell me and we can stop this ridiculous conversation.”

“Fine. The reason Riley stopped the wedding is because I'm in love with Missy Bradford. Sorry it had to come out this way and I hope you understand.”

“That's not funny. You're not funny.”

“Hey, fuck you, I'm hilarious.” She turns back around. He looks like a staggering combination of half-wrecked and half-hopeful. “Okay, you want the truth?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

“I hated every second of the past year,” Maya tells him. She's glad she's still a little bit drunk so she has the courage to do this. “I hated that you were with Missy, that you were going to marry her, and she was going to have your babies, and probably name them something stupid like Tiffany or Bradley.” She rolls her eyes to stare up at the sun. “And that there was a possibility that I could lose you in the end. I didn't like that either.”

Maya kneels on the step right in front of his so they're at eye level. “And you wanna know why, cowboy?” She doesn't let him respond. “Because I'm in love with you. Have been since that stupid science project in high school. Probably even before then. And I wanted to be the one that got to marry you. Not Malibu Barbie.”

He stares at her for a moment, like he can't believe what's happening, that this is his life, but then he smiles, full-forced, and places a hand on the side of her neck. She lets out a breath of relief, and she never realized just how starved she’d been of his touch. “You should've just said so.”

“So what happened after you two left?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and pulling it away from her face, but not letting go of his hand. 

“She told me that Riley was right,” he answers with a shake of his head. “That her parents had been putting too much pressure on her for this wedding. She said she'd been having cold feet since the proposal and she couldn't marry me because we weren't right for each other, haven't been for a long time.” He looks at her before glancing back down at their hands. “And she knew that I was in love with somebody else too. Probably a lot longer than I knew myself.”

There's a moment of quiet before: “It's me, right?”

“Don't be stupid.” He rolls his eyes. “How could it be anybody but you?”

“That's so romantic.” She fiddles with his loose tie. “So what happens now?”

“Whatever you want,” he answers with a shrug, his lips pulling up into a smile that she hasn't seen for a long time. 

She pauses. And then, “Is Missy okay?” 

“I think so, yeah,” Lucas says, scrunching up his eyebrows. “Seemed more relieved than anything. I wasn't even a little offended when she thanked me for not going through with this wedding. Said we could still be friends, so yeah. It's good.”

Maya grins then, doesn't mention the fact that this whole situation was a goddamn mess that could've ruined both his and Missy’s lives just because of lack of communication. 

“Great. Let's get married. You and me this time. Can't let that ridiculously ginormous cake go to waste.”

“Right, because that's the most important part,” he laughs and holds out his hand to pull her up, tucking her into his side as they walk back into the church. “Our first kiss is gonna be on our wedding day while you're half-drunk. Is that sad or cute?”

“I don't know.” When he smiles back at her, Maya sees her entire future in front of her. She's a little scared if she's being honest, but mostly excited. “We’ll just have to ask our children.”

 

**two years later**

“Hey, did you know that the salt goes into the popcorn bowl and not your hand? Crazy, I know.” 

“Mm.” Maya shakes a few more crystals into her palm before licking it clean, throwing him a grin. “Delicious.”

“That's disgusting.”

She pokes at his ass with her big toe. “You're disgusting.”

He rolls his eyes, but keeps his back to her as he fills the bowl with popcorn. She's swinging her legs back and forth on the counter, in his shirt, humming a song he doesn't recognize. “So I was thinking Dorothy for a girl. What’d you think?”

“Really? And you were making fun of Tiffany?”

“Fine. How about Nadine?” she asks. “It means hope.”

“Nadine is nice,” he answers, and then clears his throat. “Hey, Maya.”

“Yeah, Sundance.”

“How come you've never asked for a real wedding ring?” he asks. She didn't get one two years ago, tossed the one meant for Missy away as soon as the ceremony was over, and never bothered in caring about getting one. 

Maya shrugs. “Doesn't make a difference to me.”

Lucas just hums in response and grabs the popcorn bowl, using his free hand to help Maya down. They settle into the couch to watch a movie that Lucas got to pick this time. 

But he's restless the whole time, sneaking glances at her every time she sticks her hand in the popcorn bowl. 

“God, what?” she snaps finally when it's the sixth time he does it.  

He looks back at the television. “Nothing.”

She sees his hands clasped between his knees, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the back of his hand. Maya’s eyes narrow at him, turning her body towards her and neglecting the movie entirely. “What'd you do?”

“I didn't do anything,” he answers. “Just watch the movie and finish the popcorn.”

“Is it my grandmother’s expensive vase? Did you break it?”

“No! No, it's not anything like that,” he reassures her. 

“Then what the fuck, Lucas – “

“I’ll tell you when the movie’s over,” he interjects, “or whenever you fucking finish the – “

“Is anything broken or dead?”

“No,” he says firmly. 

But she glares at him until she's satisfied with his answer and turns back to the movie, sticking her hand in the popcorn bowl once again. He glances at her from the corner of his eye and knows she found it if her look of confusion is any indication. 

Maya pulls out the box with wide-eyes and slides her gaze to him for an explanation. 

He's blushing, his face hot, ears red. It's ridiculous that he's nervous -  they're already  _ married _ . “I thought it was time to,” he clears his throat and the corner of his lips curve up, “ _p_ _ op  _ the question.”

“Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes, “Lucas, we’re already married. What are you doing?”

“I wanted to get you a real ring,” he tells her and snatches the box from her to open it, revealing two wedding bands. 

“I'm for real considering calling a divorce lawyer,” she tells him. “I can’t believe you asked me to marry you again with a  _ pun. _  Did Zay tell you to do this? I feel like we've been over this a thousand times, but you shouldn't listen to any of Zay’s ideas.”

“So you don't want it?” he asks. 

Maya rolls her eyes and grabs the box back from him. “Don't be ridiculous; of course I want it.”

His grin is almost blinding. 

She's just about to slip it on her finger before he stops her. “Let me do it?”

With a nod, Maya watches as he takes her hand in his and slips the ring onto her finger, smiling when she notices that his are slightly trembling. Then he holds his hand out for her to slip the ring on him next. 

Maya sits up on her knees to press a kiss to his mouth. “You know you didn't have to.”

“Of course I did, we’re married now. I want the whole world to know that,” he tells her, tugging her into his lap. “And don't think I don't know you're secretly a gold digger. This ring costs more than my grandfather’s entire ranch.”

“You're lying straight to my face.”

“Nope. My mom insisted she help pay for it,” he says, “as a belated wedding gift.”

Maya bites her lower lip and leans her forehead against his. “I love it. But I honestly would've been happy with a cherry ring pop.”

“If you sell that ring, you could probably buy six dozen cargo crates full of cherry ring pops.”

“Good to know.”

“I love you and support your decisions, but please don't sell that ring for a ring pop.”

She grins. “Sorry, can't make any promises.”

“You're terrible, I want a divorce.”

Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she says: “Don't even joke about that, Sundance, and if anyone is filing for a divorce first you bet your corn-shucking hillbilly ass it's gonna be me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and hugs her close to his chest. “Glad that we're not getting one then.”

It's a few minutes into the movie, their hands entwined on her lap, Maya’s head tucked between his neck and his shoulder, that she mumbles, “Nadine would love cherry ring pops.”

“It's time for you to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ending inspired from [this](percaval.tumblr.com/post/149853118387/person-a-proposing-by-putting-the-ring-in-a-bowl) post, which is dedicated to jessie!


	10. i've grown attached to you being here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt request: pregnant maya and overprotective lucas

_Hey, so. Some big news, I hope you're sitting down. Or standing at the edge of a cliff. Your call. I'm just gonna go right out and say it but – I’m pregnant! Yeah. [Dry laughter] That happened. Also, it's yours, so, congratulations. Man, those pamphlets really knew what they were talking about, didn't they? Only took one time. Riley said I should've told you this in person but I'd rather not see how your face is looking right at this very moment, so. Anyway. Pizza rolls or mozzarella sticks for game night? Call me back. Oh! This is Maya._

*

She didn't mean for it to happen, honestly. Although that's a considerably weak argument since about half of all pregnancies are accidental anyway, so, if anything, she just ended up becoming a statistic.

“At least you're not a teen mom,” Zay had told her after he found out. “We could all be grateful about that.”

It's not like she wasn't being safe – she wasn't going to have sex with him until she made  _sure_ Lucas used a condom. Maya remembers her mother reminiscing about her own pregnancy, knocked up at seventeen by a guy with a Harley Davidson and a barbed wire tattoo around his bicep. There was a lot of vomiting and swollen body parts and, not to mention, a tiny  _human_ growing inside her belly. Maya didn't want that, not sure if she ever wanted that, but it's not like she has a choice, now.

Well, that isn't true. There’s three options she can go with here.

She can keep the baby, which means keeping the morning sickness, the vomit, the swelling belly, the mood swings. And then there's the labor and then there's the actually  _raising a child._  God, if she keeps it, she hopes she doesn't end up giving it permanent psychological damages.

Second option: she can go through with all that physical pain and put it up for adoption after. Open, she thinks, because she doesn't know if she can give away her baby to someone and know that they're out there and not do anything about it.

And three – she can get an abortion. She knows the possible risks for that, the stigma surrounding women who choose this route. So of course, she has to think about it, like all the other options. But that's the thing - it's her  _choice._  And if both she and Lucas feel as if they're not ready for this baby, then that's a very likely choice she will have to make.

Either way, one of these choices will be one of the hardest decisions she's ever going to have to make in her life, and Maya doesn't  _do_ decisions.

She really hates the color pink now.

*

“I can’t believe you told me you were pregnant through  _voicemail,_ are you  _joking?"_

Lucas hasn't stopped pacing since he got to her place, muttering on about more effective condoms, so she's been having to act calm for the both of them. She puts up an amazing performance because she really has the overwhelming urge to scream at him right now. He's not the one physically carrying a  _child._

“I was scared! I didn't know how you'd react,” she tells him, her eyes following him as he walks back and forth from her kitchen to the living room. “You're not exactly being a helping hand at the moment, you know.”

He stops in front of her, sees her picking at the skin around her thumb until they're an angry red, and sighs deeply, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. Lucas squats down in front of her, takes her hand in his and makes sure she's listening when he says, “Look, whatever you decide to do, I'll be here for you, okay? If you wanna – if you wanna keep the baby, that's fine, my family has money, we're almost done with school. We’ll make it work. You'd be a great mom, I know you would. And if you don't, if you know you're not ready, I'll support that too. Whatever you want.”

Maya chews on her lower lip. “I'm gonna need some time to think about it.”

“That's fine,” he replies.

They decide not to tell anyone for now, except Riley who already knows, and he's not exactly sure how long that's going to last because Riley doesn't really have the best track record for being able to keep secrets. He gives it a week, tops, and she'll be spilling it to anyone within a three feet radius and two fully functioning ears.

That night, Maya lays in bed and thinks about the story she's going to have to tell her kid, if she decides to keep it, of how she was conceived. It won't be anything special or romantic, like all the other parents of the other kids. They were just bored one night, gotten tipsy off of a couple of rum and cokes, and decided to do something about their unresolved sexual tension, agreeing to move on like it'd never happened afterwards.

This is the universe’s way of saying  _joke’s on you, dumb fucks._

She calls Lucas at four in the morning, not even sure he's going to pick up until he answers at the last possible second with an unamused grunt.

“We're gonna have to lie to our child,” she greets him. “They're not even  _born_ yet and we're already setting up an unhealthy environment.”

He's silent for a moment, before: “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Lucas, we can't tell our kid that they were only born because we were being idiots.”

“That's how I was born. That's how you were born. That's how about 50% of this population was born. Why can’t our child be included?”

“Imagine little Amelia bringing home a friend from kindergarten one day and she’ll tell her about how her mother met her father on a trip to Greece and shared expensive red wine next to the Parthenon and when she asks little Amelia how her parents met she's going to have to say  _oh they fucked one time when they were drunk and bored and now they have to live with that decision the rest of their lives and they're not even married so they don't even have married people perks wanna play hide and seek?"_

“God, our baby’s first word is gonna be fuck, I just know it.”

“Lucas! I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, which is weird for you. Just go back to sleep, we'll figure this out in the morning.”

She sighs and rolls over to press her face into the pillow, her free hand drifting down to the flat of her belly.  _There's a little tiny human swimming around in there._ “Girl or boy?” she mumbles.

“What?”

“Would you want a girl or a boy?” she asks again.

He's silent for a while that Maya thinks she's said something wrong. “Doesn't matter to me. I’d love them either way.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Me too.”

“So,” he clears his throat and she hears the rustling of his sheets in the background. “Have you decided to keep it?”

“I don't know,” she answers truthfully. “I think I need to tell my mom first, before I make a decision.”

“That's a good idea.”

She rolls her eyes. “You think all my ideas are good ideas.”

“That's because they are.”

“You know, huckleberry, if we're gonna make this work you're gonna have to have more of a backbone. This baby’s gonna have you wrapped around its little finger before it can even learn how to walk.”

“Yeah, well. I'll figure that out if the time comes,” he says.

Maya frowns a bit. “We never - what do you want? Do you want me to keep this baby? And none of that ‘whatever you want, I want’ bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

She hears him release a breath, static harsh to her ears. “I do want whatever you want, Maya. But…yeah. Yeah, I’d be really happy if you decided you wanted to keep it. You know how much I want a family.”

That's the difference between her and Lucas. She'd been so used to not having that, to just being content with her mother and Riley, because as much as she wanted a father when she was younger she'd learned that she didn't need one to be whole. Her mother did just fine raising her on her own. The thing is, she doesn't know if she'd do just as good as Katy, or if she'd fuck up her baby’s life because she's completely unprepared.

“Okay,” she responds. “Let's say I do decide to keep the baby. How would this work? You and me.”

“We could – we’d just raise the baby together. Can’t be that hard, right? We don't even have to get married. I know how much –" he clears his throat, "I know you think it's an antiquated tradition. Platonic parenthood is a thing, right?”

She doesn't realize that that's not the answer she wanted until her heart sinks. She expected Lucas to kind of want to do the whole nine yards – buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, lease a minivan, get married in an old chapel with his entire family sitting in the front row. She wouldn't have minded any of it, if it was with him.

“Yeah, okay,” she clears her throat and rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Listen, I’m exhausted, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Maya. Don't sleep on your stomach because it'll squish the baby like a grape.”

It pulls a small smile out of her. “That sounds completely likely. Goodnight, Lucas.”

*

Maya tells Katy they need to talk a week later, so she texts her that she'll meet her at Topanga’s after her shift. She orders a hot chocolate because she'd already had coffee that morning and Lucas had sent her a link to a website earlier that warns her not to overdose on the caffeine.

She's tapping her fingers against the side of her cup nervously when her mother slides into the seat across from her, pushing a scone towards her with a grin. “Hey, baby girl, what's on your mind?”

Maya takes a deep breath. “Please don't be mad at me.”

The smile slips from Katy’s face. “Why would I – “ her eyes widen in shock then, gaze slipping to the hand on her belly, to the caffeine she's not drinking. “Oh god. You're pregnant, aren't you?”

She grunts indignantly. “I had a whole speech prepared and you just ruined it.”

“ _Maya_ – how did this – “

“I think you know very well how this happened, I don't think we need to get into the dirty details.”

Katy narrows her eyes. “Who's baby? Please don't let it be someone random, I swear to god –“

“It's Lucas's.”

Maya thinks that surprises her mother more than anything. She leans back against her seat, stunned, her lips slightly parted. “Are you two - ?”

“No. No, we’re not like that. It was a one time thing. He doesn't – “ she stops there, not sure she can finish the sentence, but her mother understands and takes her hand to squeeze it firmly. “Anyway. I just – I'm confused and I needed your opinion on what I should do.”

“That's ultimately up to you,” Katy says with a shake of her head, “but. Even though it was hard, keeping you was the best decision of my life. That might not be the case for you, only you know what you can handle.”

Maya groans and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Neither of you are any help to me. Just tell me what I should do. Decide my life for me, mom, I don't _wanna_.”

Katy levels her with an unimpressed look.

“Would you help me?” she asks, chewing on her lip. “If I wanted to keep it?”

Her eyes soften. “Of course. Of course I would, Maya, anything you need.”

It feels like a weight off her back, her mother knowing and understanding and willing to help. Almost feels like she can do it.  

“How far along are you?”

“About a month,” Maya says. “I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow.”

“Good,” Katy says. “Keep me updated, okay? I still have a bunch of books I can give you, numbers for parent coaching – like I said. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” she breathes easier now. “I really appreciate it.”

Katy smiles and boops her nose. “Just don't do it again, sweet pea.”

*

Lucas goes with her to every doctors appointment, sits beside her cot and holds her hand if she wants it, and listens attentively to what the doctor’s saying. Almost pulls out a pen and paper at one point to take notes if Maya hadn’t stopped him.

When she told him she wanted to keep the baby, after hours of careful deliberation and crying on the phone with Riley, he wrapped her up in his arms and swung her around, his light and happiness spilling into her she almost couldn't breathe with it. She still gets panics sometimes,  _we're really doing this I'm really having a living, breathing baby growing inside me,_ but Lucas is always there to remind her that she's not alone.

Riley’s there too, all the time. Suffocatingly. She's already made a list of all the essentials she's buying for Maya and the baby, spending her free time ordering onesies and 6 pairs of booties, a cradle and a rocking chair, a starry nightlight and a pink fuzzy blanket. It's overwhelming, the amount of help she's getting from the three most important people in her life, but she's grateful for it.

Her morning sickness started a few days back so Lucas has been unbearable about it, rubbing circles into her back after she'd finished throwing up in the toilet, pestering her to go to bed early, leaving a glass of water and a plate of saltine crackers on the bedside table for her so she doesn't get too nauseous.

He likes to carry her around too, even though she insists on walking herself.

“This is unnecessary,” she tells him as he wraps an arm under her thighs and the other around her back, lifting her up bridal style. “I didn't suddenly lose the ability to walk on my own two feet, you know.”

“You threw up as soon as you got out of bed,” he reminds her and takes her to the kitchen, placing her on the counter as he opens up the pantry. “I'm making you some peppermint tea and a sandwich.”

“You're worse than my own mother,” she grumbles but she's not gonna lie – she likes being doted on by Lucas, and she understands that it's the way that he is. Always needing to protect and care for the people he loves. Still, it feels nice.

She kicks her legs back and forth and watches him neatly cut up the lettuce and tomatoes, her hand resting on her belly. It's still relatively flat, hardly even noticeable even if told she was carrying, but she can't help rubbing her hands over it anyway.

He hands her a lemon slice to suck on, and when she's done with it, she sucks the peel to her teeth and smiles at him when he glances at her. He rolls his eyes, holds his hand out until she spits the lemon peel into it, and she grumbles something about  _no fun_ and _if our baby has no sense of humor I'm not writing your name on the birth certificate._

Of course, he takes it all in stride and pushes the plate towards her when he's finished. “Eat,” he commands and leans against the counter next to her thigh with his arms folded across his chest and watches her.

She's not hungry but she eats it anyway, little nibbles here and there that makes Lucas narrow his eyes until she pointedly widens her own and takes a larger bite just to humor him. It works because he smiles at her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I have to go to work, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Stop worrying, I’ll be fine. I have Riley.”

He gives her a look. “That's why I'm worried.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he flips her off before he feels bad about it and wraps an arm around her shoulders in a hug. “Finish your sandwich and take a nap in a few hours. Remember to call me, okay?”

“Yes, papa.” She shoves him away from her. “See you later, papa.” Kicks the back of his knee. “Don't wait up, papa.”

The corners of his mouth tick up and he shakes his head as he leaves the apartment.

It's quiet the second he shuts the door and her mood instantly plummets. She calls Riley. “I'm bored. Come play with me.”

She laughs. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second. I’m at the Target right across from Lucas’s apartment and they're having a sale on diapers. How do you feel about the cloth variety?”

“Absolutely no thoughts. Get your ass over here or I'm asking Smackle to be the godmother instead.”

Riley gasps. “You wouldn't.”

“Do you really wanna risk it?”

Maya hears something drop on the other end. “I'm coming.”

*

“I think we should tell the others,” she says one night. She's been spending a lot of her time there recently, which is understandable, but also confusing. Maya's feet are resting in his lap as he twists the ends of her hair around his finger, mindlessly flipping through his Netflix queue with his other hand.

Her back had been hurting a lot more so Lucas suggested taking a day off class to relax, running to the store to buy baby oil and epsom salt so she can take a warm bath. He'd sat at the toilet and read her a passage from a book while she leaned her head back against the wall and listened.  _For the baby_ , he'd told her.  _So they can recognize my voice._

He stops to look at her, brows creasing. “Yeah? You think they don't already know?”

She shakes her head. “Riley's been good about it. I told her I'd revoke godmother privileges if she didn't listen.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I think we should tell the others too.”

Maya nods. “Text them to come over next weekend in the group chat. We’ll tell them then.”

*

**Clique Six**

**huckleberry [horse emoji]** : Hey y'all, movie night at my place saturday. Bring snacks

 **me** : which is code for Zay’s mom’s cookies

 **Zay** : why is it that you're the only one who knows these codes

 **me** : it's not that hard everything is always code for your mom's cookies

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : she's having cravings

 **me** : right it's because i'm pregnant with your baby

_**huckleberry [horse emoji]** has left the conversation  
**Today** 3:46PM _

**Riley** : HAHAHAHAHA what a funny JOKE maya hahahaha you're so HILARIOUS I can't handle it

 **Farkle** : interesting

 **Smackle** : i'll bring the chips!

*

“You're gonna be the death of me one day, aren't you?” Lucas grumbles.

Maya grins, pops a grape into her mouth and shrugs a shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”

She's nine weeks along at this point, still without a bump to show for it, but the morning sickness and nausea are relentless. She'd slept in too long this morning after forgetting to set an alarm the night before and woke up to Lucas carrying in a tray of jell-o for her.

“Don't you have to meet your mom?” he asks, putting the leftovers back into the fridge. He'd gotten it recently, a mini fridge to put in his room for Maya, making grabbing a water bottle to ebb the nausea a bit easier. He wouldn't let her carry the box up the stairs, though, saying it's too heavy for her, and she's resented him for it.

(“Lucas, it’s _mini,"_  she'd argued petulantly, even if she was perfectly fine watching the way the muscles in his arms flexed when he lifted up the box.

“Yeah, and so are you.”)

Her grin stretches now. “Tryna get rid of me so soon, huckleberry?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You caught me. I hate having you here all the time, every single day. A burden on my soul.”

Her smile falters even though she realizes he's just joking. But – she thinks about it sometimes. How he's basically stuck with her now. How if he wishes it were some other girl with more money and less trouble.

(Although not without justification, Maya also blames this partly on the hormones. She's yelled at a few innocent bystanders on the street for pointless reasons today, cried six times in the span of two hours, has wanted to punch Lucas in the throat double that amount. Wanted to kiss him just as much, too.)

“Hey, where'd you go?” he murmurs, brows creased in the middle with concern, when she comes to.

Maya clears her throat and remembers to grab her sweater before Lucas throws a fit. “I'll grab some ginger ale on the way back. Text me if you need anything else for tonight.”

She hears him call her name before she shuts the door but she doesn’t stop, just gets into her car and drives over to her mother’s place, where she'll be waiting with apple juice in lieu of cider and a DIY arts & crafts webpage open on her laptop. Katy told her she did this stuff all the time while she was pregnant, to keep her hands busy and her mind focused.

There's instrumental music playing from the speakers once Katy opens the door to let her in.

“What the fuck is this? Are you listening to Beethoven?”

“Mozart. It's soothing for the baby,” she answers and then ushers her in, guiding her to the living room where she's set up all the art supplies. Mini canvases and paintbrushes on the coffee table. Scissors, acrylic paints, colored assortment of buttons and ribbons, a bag of beads and pipe cleaners.

“It's like  _Michaels_ threw up in here.”

Katy grins. “That's what I was going for.”

Maya sticks with the old fashioned paint and canvas, the one certain thing that can calm her nerves and slow her thoughts into something coherent. Katy asks her a bunch of questions while she beads a necklace, about how the baby’s doing, when her next appointment is, if she's eating and resting enough. All the answers are pretty much the same: she's fine, Lucas is fine, everything's fine.

“Then why do you look like it's not?” Katy wonders, quietly. “Are you having doubts?”

“No,” she answers. “I want this baby. I don't regret it. It's just – “

“Just what, baby girl?”

Maya sets down her paintbrush, her hand automatically resting on the slight swell of her stomach. “I know that he said he wanted to have this baby too, but. It's not fair to him, that he has to have it with me.”

Her mother’s eyes narrow at her words. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm saying that – what if he regrets it? That it's _me?_ I'm not wife material,” she rolls her eyes at this, “or even Mother of the Year material. He's perfect, mom, in every way, and he's gonna be a great dad. But what if he wants to get married some day? I know that's what he wants, it's just not with me.”

“Where are you getting this from?” she asks incredulously. “He'd marry you in a second if you'd asked him, you know that right?”

But Maya shakes her head. “Lucas is - he's a pretty traditional guy. When I told him that I was pregnant, he said that we didn't have to get married, that we could raise the baby just as friends. He’s not gonna – he doesn't wanna marry me.”

“But you wanna marry him,” Katy guesses, “don't you?”

Maya shrugs, mumbles, “I think it'd be nice. For the baby.”

There's an amused smile curling at the edge of her mouth but she bites it down. “Right. For the baby.”

“Yes. I want my baby to have a father in their life, and he'd be the best one.”

“Maybe you should, I don't know, talk to him about it?”

“We already did. I already know where he stands and it's fine.”

Katy watches her daughter very closely. “Maybe he'll change his mind if he knows where you stand.”

She feels anger bubble up in the middle of her chest but she does her best to clamp it down. “I'm not gonna let him marry me out of pity or – or obligation, mom.”

“Do you even know who we're talking about here? It's  _Lucas._ He'd do anything for you, and it's not just because y'all are best friends. It's because he loves you. Can’t believe I actually had to tell you that.”

“I don't wanna talk about this anymore,” Maya mumbles and picks up her paintbrush again. “Anyway, my feet are swelling up, where's that pedicure you promised me?”

*

Maya gets home around six-thirty with a bottle of ginger ale and a box of Cheez-it that she's been craving. Lucas is setting up the DVD player when she walks in and he turns his head around. “Oh good, you're home. Grab me that cord?”

She picks up the black cable he pointed at with his foot and hands it over to him. He glances at her before finishing his job. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answers, slipping off her shoes and flopping back onto the couch. “Tired. I don't think I've ever done that much crafting in my entire life. Promise me we won't ever do that.”

He smiles, fond, and agrees.

“When are the others coming?” she asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Riley’s on her way, should be here in five minutes. Everyone else is out getting snacks.” He sits down next to her. “Do you want a massage?”

She lifts an eyebrow, her eyes flitting down to his hands for a second. “You any good?”

He shrugs. “I'll give you a trial run and you tell me.”

“Okay,” she agrees and he moves to sit back against the arm of the couch so she can fit into the space between his thighs. She almost falls asleep, with how good his hands feel on her, his thumbs pressing into the tension between her shoulder blades, his breath on the back of her neck. She may even moan a little bit and she doesn't feel bad about it.

There's a knock that snaps her out of it. “Are you guys having sex?”

Maya rolls her eyes and shouts. “Harder, Lucas, _harder!"_

The door swings open and Riley swoops in with a handful of bags. “Gross.”

“What if we were naked?”

“Stupid to leave the door unlocked,” Riley replies and sets the bags on the coffee table. “Hey, Lucas.”

He nods at her as a greeting and Maya turns to look at him, amused at the flush down his neck.

Riley squats down on the floor in front of Maya with a grin, her hand on her stomach. “How's my favorite niece doing?”

“How do you know it's a girl?” Lucas asks.

“I’m praying it's a girl,” she says. “I already ordered two hundred dollars worth of frilly dresses and pink bonnets.”

Maya scoffs. “Boy or girl or neither, my child is wearing whatever the fuck you bought for them. You think I'm letting that money go to waste?”

“So what's the plan?” Riley asks and shoves in between the two of them, ignoring Maya’s less than appreciative grumble. “What are we telling them?”

“Pretty simple,” Maya says. “’Hey, everyone, I'm pregnant with Lucas’s baby’. Done.”

“I'm down with that,” Lucas agrees and Maya holds her hand up for a high-five.

“Fine, it's your life,” Riley says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “But if it were me, I’d have pigs in a blanket as an appetizer, then I'd make them choose between  _Three Men and a Baby_ or _What To Expect When You're Expecting,_ and maybe have some pink and blue balloons with potential names inside them, and if they still don't get it – “

“Yeah, we’re not like you, Riley,” Maya interrupts. “I'd prefer just to tell them straight.”

“Okay, I hear you,” she concedes. And then: “ _But_ – “

There's a brief knock before the door swings open once again and the three Stooges file in one by one.

“My momma says she's gonna start charging you for these cookies,” Zay calls out as he makes his way into the kitchen to set the plastic container down, Farkle and Smackle with Wal-Mart bags right behind him. “They don’t come cheap.”

“Got nothing but the lint in my pocket and some love,” Maya replies.

He pops back out, sits on the arm of the couch next to Lucas and gives her a grin. “Gonna have to do better than that, blondie.”

“So what movie are we watching?” Farkle asks, pulling Smackle to sit next to him on the love seat across from the couch. “I'm really in the mood for some comedy.”

“Oh! I got comedy,” Maya says and drops a wink at Lucas. He almost chokes. “You want something funny?”

Farkle nods. “But, god, nothing with Adam Sandler.”

“Gotcha. Lucas, give me a drum roll.”

“I’m not doing that.”

She pauses for dramatic effect, catches the eye of everyone in the room, and then: “I'm pregnant.”

She sees Riley's jazz hands in her peripheral. 

There's a silence. Smackle hums. “Never heard of that before. What's it about?”

“Lemme give you the synopsis,” Maya continues and Lucas is not breathing. “Lucas and I had sex. And now I'm pregnant. I'd give it 4 stars. The sex, not the pregnancy. That's probably like a one and a half.”

There's another silence until Zay breaks it with a laugh. “April fools! This is the part where you say that, right? Whew, y'all almost got me there. Okay, for real, what movie are we watching? I got my m&ms waiting for me.”

“It's May 3rd,” Lucas says.

Zay blinks. “Well, shit.”

“Guys, I know it's a shock, but Lucas and Maya really need our support right now – “

“Wait a minute,” Farkle cuts in, eyes wide like a baby deer. “You're _pregnant?"_

“Yes, that is what I said two times now.”

“Like,  _really_ pregnant? Like, there's a  _baby_ in you  _right_ _now?_ Is this making sense to everyone else?”

“Do you need me to tell you how babies are made, honey?” Smackle murmurs to him.

“I need to sit down,” he mutters.

“You are sitting down.”

Farkle let's his body become jell-o, slipping onto the floor and doesn't move when Zay kicks his boot to his side.

“Well. Any other questions?” Maya addresses the rest of the group.

“Nope. Turn the movie on,” Zay says and slides down in the space next to Lucas, popping an m&m into his mouth. And that's that.

*

Lucas takes her to the doctor when she's four and a half months pregnant for an ultrasound, and holds her hand the whole time.

“Would you like to know the sex of your baby?” the doctor asks, probing the cool gel on her belly, which is considerably much more noticeable now.

Maya glances at Lucas who tilts his head. _Your_ _call._ She turns back to the doctor. “Give it to me, doc.”

He turns the screen towards her, points at the silhouette of a tiny peanut-shaped baby and its beating heart. “Congratulations, Miss Hart, you're having a little girl.”

She doesn't expect to cry, really, blames it on the hormones, but Lucas squats down next to her and wraps an arm around her head and cradles her hand to his chest, a smile on his face. “Did you hear that, huckleberry? We're having a girl.”

“Yeah, I heard, I'm standing right here.”

She swats his chest with her free hand but she's so happy that she doesn't care if she looks like an absolute train wreck.

The doctor gives them copies of the peanut baby for them to take home and Lucas sticks one in his wallet. Maya takes a snap of the photo and sends it to the group chat, which Riley responds to almost instantaneously with a thousand heart-eyes emojis and a thumbs up.

She doesn't let go of his hand until they're inside his apartment.

“You hungry?” he asks. “Tired? Do you – “

“Lucas, I'm fine,” she says with a laugh. “You're unbelievable.”

He rubs the back of his neck and glances away, embarrassed. “Sorry, I'm just – I just want you to be comfortable.”

With the way he looks back at her, she thinks maybe this could be it, thinks maybe this could be the right time to tell him. “Did you know I haven't even been back to my apartment in months? Except to grab more clothes to bring here?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Did you – do you wanna go back? I can take you – “

“That's not what I'm saying,” she interjects. “Just shut up for a second.”

It's almost comical how fast his lips press together.

She takes a deep breath, what she's about to say almost scarier than the fact that she's pregnant. She holds out a hand and he takes it, lacing their fingers together. Maya hates that it makes her want to cry, that being pregnant means her emotions have been amplified by a thousand.

“Maya, what is it?” he murmurs, soft, eyes searching hers.

“If I asked you,” she swallows hard, “would you – “

Riley's ringtone startles her so hard that she actually jumps, ripping her hand from his to grab at her chest. She slips her phone out of her pocket and answers without thinking.

“MAYA! Sorry I couldn't call earlier because I was at work but I'm on my lunch break now and oh my god you're having a _girl._  I was right, that feels good. And guess what that means? We have to do more shopping and – “

“Uh, Riles? Can I call you back in a few?”

“What? Oh, did I interrupt something? I'm sorry, yes, call me back as soon as you can, we have a lot to plan – “

Maya ends the call and slips her phone back into her pocket, taking a step back from Lucas. “Sorry,” she mumbles. The urge to tell him has passed now, leaving her feeling dejected.

His hands are in his pockets and he's watching her, waiting. It's always going to be her move, she realizes. He's not going to do anything unless she wants it, and she does, she wants it all. The problem is that she doesn't know if he wants it just as much.

“I should, um. Go see my mom. Tell her the news.”

“Right,” he lets her walk to the door. “You're coming back home after, though?”

Her heart clenches so hard it leaves her breathless for just a moment. “Yeah. I'll be home.”

But She ends up falling asleep at her mom’s by accident and feels guilty the next morning when she wakes up to three missed calls from Lucas and an _are u ok?_ text.

 **me** : sorry fell asleep

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : …

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : did I do something?

 **me** : no

 **me** : you're mr perfect

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : for some reason i'm sensing that's the problem

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : come home so we can talk

 **huckleberry [horse emoji]** : please

*

After two hours of sitting in her car outside his apartment complex, berating herself for being so goddamn emotional and rethinking her entire life, she swings opens the door and lets it slam shut behind her. “Honey, I’m home!” 

She sees Lucas walk out of his bedroom in just a pair of jeans and it's so, so unfair. He's frowning at her so she gives him a smile. Or tries to, at least. His grimace says she didn't do a very good job.

“You wanna tell me what's going on?” he asks. “24 hours ago you were fine, happy. And then you just - weren't.”

“I’m fine. Everything's fine,” she says, and starts to ramble. “You don't have to worry about me, okay? We’ll have the baby, and it'll be fine. We're just gonna have to figure out how this is going to work. Is she gonna alternate between houses on the weekends? Or do I get her half the week and you get her the other half? This is stuff we have to talk about, Lucas, we can't just wing it – “

His frown had deepened with each word out of her mouth. “Where is this coming from? Who said we were winging it? Maya, I told you we were in this together – “

She closes her eyes. “I  _know_ – I know that's what you said. And I appreciate it. But we have to think about the future, too. If one day you wanna get a girlfriend and get married and move away, that affects all of us.”

His eyes widened, arms falling to the side. “Is that what this is about? You think I wanna get married?”

“I  _know_ that's what you wanna do. And I don't want  _this_ – “ she points at her belly – “to get in the way of what you want. You're always there for me, supporting me, and I wanna do the same for you. I know that it isn't easy, doing this with me because you feel - because you feel obligated. Or whatever.”

He's looking at her like she's grown three heads since she's walked in. “Is  _that_ what you think? How could you even, I thought we've moved past this – Maya, I don't wanna marry anyone. And I don't do  _this,_ support you, be there for you, because I  _have_ to, because we're having a baby together. I'm doing it because I  _want_ to.”

She swallows past the thickness in her throat. “I know you want a family, Lucas, I'm just sorry that you ended up stuck with me.”

His eyes soften and he moves towards her. “I’m not.”

She stares at him, searching for any form of a lie and losing her breath when she finds none. Her voice cracks when she asks, “You don't regret it?”

“No. Not once.” He slides his hand to the back of her neck, his thumb skimming over her bottom lip. “Do you?”

Maya shakes her head, unable to form the words. She's watching his mouth as it moves closer to her mouth, an irritated grunt leaving her once he stops a hairsbreadth away. She can feel his mouth feather light on hers as he speaks. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“Okay,” she says, too easily, each time her lips move against his sending shivers down her spine. She feels his mouth curve upwards. “What about platonic parenthood?”

“Fuck that,” he says right before he pulls her to him by the neck, crushing their bodies together. He pushes her up against the wall, mouth hot on hers, and she slides her hands up his shoulders, up the sides of his neck, to bury in his hair, and she can't breathe, doesn't want to—

That's when she feels it. A kick. Lucas must feel it too because he moves back quickly, bright eyes latching onto hers. He grins and falls to his knees, hands and ear pressed against her stomach. “Hi, baby. Do that again for daddy?”

Maya cards her fingers through his hair, smiling, unable to stop.

He touches her stomach a lot more, after that. Placing his palm over the swell of it when she leans against him on the couch, resting his head on her belly with a “I think I can hear her heart beating,” even though she knows it's a lie.

She doesn't know when they started to feel like a real family, the three of them, but it's good. Better than she'd expected.

*

Alice is born on a hot summer morning, with bright blue eyes like her mother’s and honey-brown hair like her father’s. And she's beautiful, although Maya just might be a little bit biased.

“A cute little alien, aren't you?” she coos once the nurse wrapped her up in a blanket and handed her back to Maya. She lets Alice suck on her finger, heart bursting at the sight of her little hand fisting in Maya’s hospital gown. She's strong. She knew she would be.

Lucas is sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed, watching his two girls with something like pride in his eyes. Maya looks over at him and grins. “You wanna hold her?”

He scrambles up so fast he almost trips over his feet. Maya laughs, carefully handing their baby over to him. She's drifting off, big eyes blinking sleepily up at him, so he places a kiss on her forehead and rocks her until she does.

“Hey,” Maya mumbles, tugging on the hem of his shirt, her own eyes heavy from exhaustion, until he bends down to her level. “I wanna marry you.”

He grins, presses his lips to hers. “Then let's get married.”

Maya falls asleep soon after.

*

She'd never actually thought it'd be easy, being a mom, but she also was not entirely prepared for how physically draining and emotionally exhausting it is.

Alice is loud and stubborn, like her mother, and the only thing that can calm her down when she's having one of her moods is Lucas.

Which would be fine if, you know, he was _here._

Maya bounces Alice on her shoulder, screams splitting her ears, drool staining her shirt. “Come on, baby, if I can't cry, neither can you.”

She sings to her sometimes, to get her to calm down, but she's tried that already and it didn't work this time. Feeding her would have been the next solution, but she'd pushed the bottle of formula away from her when Maya tried, so she wasn't hungry. Not tired either, throwing a fit and flailing her little arms every time Maya attempted to set her down.

“I am going to lose my goddamn mind,” Maya mutters. “Sorry. My gosh-darn mind. Don't tell your dad.”

She contemplates calling her mother and asking if she can come over, just so that Maya can take a short nap and refuel. But she doesn't want to cave in, wants to prove to herself that she can do this.

“Hey, Alice, remember that time we were in the hospital and I had to push you out of my vagina for six straight hours? Yeah, sometimes I feel like you forget that happened.”

Alice grabs onto Maya’s hair and tugs a little.

“Thanks. It's only been seven minutes since you last pulled my hair, I was starting to worry.”

Of course, ninety-five percent of being a mother to a three-month old is that it's mostly just talking to yourself, not expecting a reply of any kind except for an indecipherable baby gargle here and there. So Maya continues to hum until Alice’s cries die down a little. “Can I sit down now? Will you let me sit? Just for a little while?”

It's a miracle, that Alice doesn't start crying as soon as Maya sits down on the edge of the couch. She breathes a sigh of relief, for her state of mind and her aching feet. “Thank you, baby.”

She sits there for a while, rubbing her back until she stops crying almost completely after wearing herself out. Maya almost cries when she hears the last sniffle, lightly tickles her at the back of her neck until it pulls a little giggle.

“There's my girl,” she whispers. Maya lifts her from her shoulder so she can see her face and wipe the tears from her cheeks. She's so tiny, her head the size of a softball, and it's ridiculous, how that makes Maya want to cry too.

She kisses the tip of her nose softly before Alice makes grabby-hands at her so she lets her head rest on Maya’s shoulder again, feels her bury it in her hair.

Lucas comes home from work a little bit later, while Alice is resting on Maya’s stomach, playing with her hair as Maya scrolls through her phone.

“How are my two favorite girls?” he asks, bending down to leave a kiss on each of their heads.

“Alice is a little self-obsessed,” she tells him as she shows him her phone. There's a bunch of blurry pictures of the corner of Alice’s forehead, her toes, her chin.

“She needs to work on her angles,” he replies.

“Take her,” Maya says, poking Alice's side. “I've needed to pee for four hours.”

Lucas loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, grabbing Alice under her armpits. “Hi, baby, don't you smell good? Did mommy give you a bath?”

She doesn't respond, just flails her arms like babies do and lets him hold her. When Maya gets back from the bathroom, he's bouncing Alice on his knee, singing some children’s song that makes her laugh. She slides in next to him and he wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“We should have six more babies,” she murmurs, grabbing Alice when she starts to reach out for her, cradling her close to her chest.

He snorts. “Funny.”

“Okay. Three babies and a dog.”

Lucas drops a kiss to Maya’s head, knowing she'd rather do literally anything else than have more than one kid. “Sure, honey.”

*

“Lucas, we are never ever having children again,” she yells at him. There's mushed bananas in her hair and on her cheeks as she glares at her fiancée and the father of her child. "Ever." 

Lucas covers Alice’s ears. “She didn't mean that, baby.”

“Yes, I did,” she presses. She's been trying to feed Alice for fifteen minutes, but she'd much rather let it sit in her mouth for a few moments before spitting it out onto her mother. Maya had to take her shirt off ten minutes ago and throw it in the washer before it got ruined beyond recognition.

“It's only been six months, babe,” he reminds her. And of course he'd make it sound so it's nothing. _His_ breasts are the ones that are still sore. “It'll get better.”

“Right, like you'd know,” she mutters. “You got other babies from another family I should know about?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Give it to me.”

She hands him the container and the bright blue plastic spoon, leaning against the high chair’s legs to watch him. He blows raspberries at her and she laughs, warming up Maya’s insides to the point where it made her forget why she was even fed up in the first place.

It's three forty-five in the morning when Maya finally put her to sleep, sliding under the covers and curling into Lucas. She can't remember the last time she closed her eyes for more than fifteen minutes. Her bones feel loose and heavy. “Am I a terrible mom?” she mumbles into his chest.

“Course not,” he reassures her, hands massaging her scalp. “Did you forget I gave you that World's Greatest Mom mug last month that proves otherwise."

She throws him an unimpressed look.

"You're trying your best, like we all are," he tells her, honestly. "The mug is telling the truth, I promise."

“Kids are cuter in theory.”

“You're not wrong.”

She sighs, heavily, and begins to trace patterns into his skin with her finger. “I love her so much, Lucas. I just don't wanna screw this up.”

“Hey, you won't.” He places a soft kiss on her head and catches her hand to lace their fingers together, because he can tell how scared she is, and they've got so much time ahead of them. “I got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i wont write for lucaya anymore  
> me, a month later: i think the fuck not you trick ass bitch!
> 
> anyway. lmk how you feel about this


	11. middle of starting over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt request: gah idk if you could ever do a fic on this which hasn't been done before yet is maya gets into a car accident leading her into a coma and lucas sits by her side talking to her to bring her back to life with flashbacks

Lucas gets the call at two in the morning.

He stumbles out of bed with his heart in his throat, slips on a shirt he picks randomly from the floor, and trips over his feet while running out the door. The drive to the hospital is the longest type of torture he's ever had to endure as he flies through the green and yellow lights, barely managing to stop at the red ones. His heart is pounding erratically through his rib cage, each beat a syllable of her name, and he wants to rip it out of his chest and leave it somewhere on the highway.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters impatiently, debates slamming on the horn when the car in front of him slows down for no reason. He swerves his own car to the right lane to speed up, sees the bright red of the hospital sign, and hardly remembers to flick his turn signal on as he pulls in to the parking lot.

He drops his keys twice on the way to the entrance, his hands shaking too much to try to slip them into his pockets. He’d just seen her a few hours ago, when she dragged him to this art walk their campus was hosting. Lucas had bought her turquoise beaded earrings and purple socks with Botticelli’s  _Birth of Venus_ stitched into them. She was in a good mood after having had her weekly check in call with her mother, after breakfast with Riley before she had to go meet with her group from her photography class, so she just accepted the gifts with a roll of her eyes and a quip that he can’t even remember now. They'd had lunch from a kiosk too, and she got guacamole on the tip of her nose so he licked it off, laughing when she shoved him away from her, kicking the back of his shin with her heeled boots. He remembers the way the sun lit up her eyes, hates how now there's something that's taken that away.

 _I'm going to Zay’s tonight,_ she'd told him when he dropped her off at her place later. She was twirling the yellow lanyard Riley had made for her in her hands as she leaned against the wall of her building.  _He’s Riley’s secret Santa and he's this close to having an aneurysm. I'll be home around ten, though? So you can call me then._

She never picked up the phone. He didn't think much of it because she forgets that she has it, the old smart phone Cory Matthews gifted her back in middle school, with a few cracks on the edge but still in almost perfect condition because Maya never takes the things people give her for granted. Still though, sometimes it'll take a few hours for her to see that he’d called or texted, and she’d reply with a “god, people still use these? You think I can single-handedly bring back carrier pigeons?”

He'd fallen asleep around midnight and he feels guilty, a little. Like maybe he should've known that something happened, should've _felt_ something deep in the marrow of his bones. But while he was sleeping in his bed, she'd been wheeled into a hospital room. It makes something drop low in his belly.

Lucas skids to a stop in front of the receptionist’s desk. “I'm – Maya. I'm looking for Maya Hart. I got a call - she'd been – “

He hears someone call his name and he spins around to see a hurricane of blonde hair and baby blue. Katy. “I’m here; where is she? Where's my daughter –”

It all happens very fast: Katy barely dropping him a greeting before gripping his hand as a nurse directs them to where she's staying, the quiet prayers falling from her lips as if she's forgotten that she's an Atheist. They tell them she'd been hit by a car, most likely driven by someone under the influence, but they don't know for sure because they fled the scene.

The icy roads only made matters worse.

Fractured rib cage. Lacerations from the broken windshield. Head trauma. Coma.

" _Coma,_ are you fucking – maybe you should've led with that,” Katy hisses at the doctor and Lucas thinks she's going to push him aside to get inside the hospital room. “When will she wake up?”

“We're looking at about a week at most, hopefully,” the doctor answers, as gentle as possible. The answer still feels like a truck slamming into his rib cage. “She's going to be fine, Mrs. Hunter. She's strong, your daughter.”

Katy’s eyes fall closed, a defeated sigh escaping her lips. “She's always been.”

“You can see her,” he continues, opening the door to Maya’s room. “It may help if you talk to her.”

The doctor leaves then, so it's just the two of them standing in the doorway.

“Does Riley know?” he asks her.

“I called Topanga on the way over here,” she mumbles, her voice fragile. “Had to leave a voicemail, but I'm sure she put the Matthews as an emergency contact.”

“She put me as one of her emergency contacts too, didn't she?” he says this in a whisper, even though he's definitely aware of the answer. Wouldn't be standing here otherwise, but it's still pretty hard to grasp exactly what he means to her.

Katy looks over to him then, gives him a soft smile. “She may not be able to vocalize it much, but you're pretty important to her, Lucas.”

He's finding it hard to swallow so he stuffs his hands in his pockets and jerks his head in Maya’s general direction. They take a step together and it's the scariest thing he's ever had to face. Scarier than Judy the sheep, than Tombstone the bull, than finding out Maya liked him, than realizing that he lost her because they'd both been dumb kids. She's lying there, on the bed, a cast wrapped around her left arm, wires and tubes tangled around her to keep her breathing, to keep her alive.

A sob catches at the back of Katy’s throat as she looks at her daughter, just barely twenty-one years old, barely able to function on her own. She's whispering, “she’ll be okay, she’ll be okay” over and over under her breath like she needs the reassurance. It breaks something in him so he sinks down into the chair next to Maya’s bed and lets his head fall into his open hands.

He doesn't let himself cry, tells himself to be strong for Katy, for Maya. But he can’t help imagining the seconds before she got hit, the terrifying moment when she realized the car isn't stopping soon enough, that she can't do anything about it except let it happen, that she's all alone. She'd probably thought she was going to die right then.

His hands start shaking because – he could've  _lo_ _st_ her. He could've lost her and she wouldn't have even known how he felt about her.

Katy’s resting her forehead on Maya’s chest, trying not to cry too loud, too hard, but failing. He wants to offer a solution, words of assurance, but right now he's just angry and sad and trying his best not to explode from the inside out. Because he hadn't been there, to protect her. He knows it's irrational because there really is nothing he could have done to prevent it from happening if he had, but still. He should've  _been_ there.

He doesn't know how long they sit there for but it's enough that Katy falls asleep kneeling beside Maya’s bed with her head pillowed on her daughter’s arm, tears staining her hospital gown. Lucas doesn’t move from the chair, just stares at Maya’s profile until his eyes burn and he has to force himself to blink. He feels his phone vibrate a couple times in his pocket but he doesn't bother to look at it, contemplates chucking it out the window a few times.

The hospital comes alive soon outside the room so he glances at the clock on the wall to see that’s it just a little past eight in the morning.

Suddenly, the door busts open and in comes Riley still in her pajamas, wild hair barely contained in a bun. “Oh my god,  _Maya."_ He hears, but nothing is really registering right now so he just kind of watches in detachment as people come and go throughout the day – Riley’s parents, Zay, Farkle and Smackle. All of them offering their sympathy with teary-eyes and cracked voices. Riley always stays, though, refusing to let the doctors scare her away even when they remind them visiting hours are over.  

Katy plants a hand on his shoulder at one point. “I'm going to the cafeteria, get us some coffee and something to eat.”

Lucas shakes his head. “Not hungry,” his voice rough from disuse.

She gives him a look. “I'm getting you food anyway,” and leaves before he can say anything else.

Riley stands from the edge of Maya’s bed after talking to her for a while – about meaningless things, like the puppy that she sees every morning on the way to her dorm, and Auggie winning his soccer tournament last weekend, and about how she’d just gotten the email this morning regarding her article being printed in the school paper, right before her mother had told her about the car accident.

She comes over to sit in the chair next to him.

“You should talk to her, Lucas,” she tells him. “I'm sure she’d like it very much.”

Lucas nods, but still he remains in his seat. He hears Riley’s voice in his head then, from years ago.  _You should tell her how you feel about her, Lucas,_ she'd said with conviction. Zay had been annoyingly nodding along right beside her.  _Because the longer you wait, the further she gets from you. And I’ve been learning that we're not guaranteed anything in this life. That as much as I hate to admit it, this world isn't as kind as I once thought. Maya knows that better than anyone. So if you love her, you have to tell her, because she deserves it. She deserves to know._

Of course he hadn't told her, because he's a fucking coward. And now she's in a  _coma._  He knows those things aren't directly correlated, obviously, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

Riley pats his knee and stands up, smoothing down her pants with another look at Maya. “I'll leave you to it.”

Once Riley leaves, it feels emptier, quieter. Lucas scoots the chair over so he's closer to the bed. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do, or say, in a situation like this. Because the only thing that's running through his mind at the moment is  _I love you I love you I almost lost you I love you_ and he's not going to say that while she's unconscious.

So he picks up her frail hand, too small and too cold, and wraps both of his around it to bring it up to his lips, brushing over her knuckles with his mouth. “Please,” he finally says, against her skin. “Please, wake up.”

*

He comes in every day at 9am to talk to her and only leaves when her doctor kicks him out.

Sometimes he just sits there, holding her hand, until Riley comes and talks enough for the both of them. Other times, he tells her about his day, his classes, the shit he and Zay get into at football practice. He'd almost sprained his wrist last week so the coach threatened to bench him for acting like a fucking idiot. Lucas doesn't really think she'd care about any of that, can imagine her rolling her eyes and flicking his nose and  _let's talk about how I’d rather sit at the DMV for six hours than listen to you ramble on about football as if you think I care at all._

Katy and Shawn spend as much time as they can with Maya when they're not working, but it's mostly always him and Riley, their other friends dropping by on the way to class or work and constantly texting the both of them for updates. The balloons they got for her droop in the corner of her room and he spends a lot of time glaring at the one that says  _Get Well Soon_ in colorful bubble letters. As if she's just got a minor cold or something.

“Farkle’s going through another phase,” he tells her, mindlessly playing with her fingers. “He thinks he wants to be a photographer now, not a scientist. It's just because some guy joined their robotics club and is apparently intellectually superior than him, as Smackle says, so now he feels inferior. Riley loves it, though. They spend a lot of time taking pictures of flowers and shit together now. He’ll get over it eventually. Farkle’s supposed to be a scientist. It's in his blood, you know?”

He pauses like he expects her to answer.

“Zay’s taken up baking,” he continues, “so when you wake up, you can taste his lemon meringue. I mean, he literally just started yesterday, but he's already really good. Swear to god, a culinary master.”

“She's been in a coma for four days and you’re acting like it's been seventeen years. This isn't a Nicholas Sparks movie, Lucas. You're so dramatic, honestly.”

He turns to see Riley leaning against the door jam with an amused expression. “Pot? Meet kettle.”

Riley walks over to Maya’s other side and pats her uninjured arm. “Don't worry, peaches, you haven't missed as much as he's letting on. Although, Farkle is going through another identity crisis. He's right about that.”

“And Zay really is baking. A lot can happen in a day.”

“Sure.”

There's a knock at the door and they turn to see Katy. He can tell she's just come from the bakery, coffee stain on the collar of her shirt, holding a container of left overs they couldn't sell. “Hungry?”

Lucas doesn't remember the last time he ate a full meal, so he accepts the half-stale ham and cheese croissant and chocolate chip cookie.

It's only when they're alone, Katy on the phone with Shawn and Riley in the cafeteria working on some homework, does he rest his head on Maya’s pillow and allow her his vulnerability.

“Remember that time in middle school,” he starts, and moves the hair from her forehead so he can see her face. There's going to be an ugly scar from her temple to her cheekbone. “And we went on that trip to Texas?”

She doesn't answer. He doesn't expect her to, but he pauses anyway, fills the silence in his head with something snarky she'd say.

“We were a mess after that, and I don't think I've ever apologized for it,” he continues. “It took us a while to get back to where we were, and it was all my fault, so I'm sorry. For putting you and Riley through that. We were such idiots. Me, especially. Got the timing all wrong.”

This is the part in the movie where she’s supposed to blink, where she’s supposed to miraculously wake up and they all get a happy ending.

"But I'm here now," he says. "So please. Just be okay. I need you to be okay."

The beeping of her heart monitor is the only thing that responds back.

*

Lucas pushes the numbers on the vending machine, slamming it a little too hard when the bag of chex mix doesn’t budge. He’s sitting on the floor, legs spread out in front of him, giving Katy and Shawn some privacy with their daughter, and giving himself some room to breathe.

It’s the tenth day.

Dr. Harper had seen him outside of her room earlier, had seen the obvious concern written on his face, and reassured him that she’s going to be okay, that she’s strong enough to pull through.

But even still he can’t get the image of Maya lying on that bed out of his head, no matter how hard he tries, so he attempts to distract himself by taking his phone out and scrolling through his camera roll. There’s selfies he has with Maya, his favorite the one where she took his cowboy hat for herself and kissed his cheek right before he took the shot. And the one she and Riley had taken when Maya stole his phone during their high school graduation ceremony, pulling silly faces with their tongues out. There’s candids of her, too: with paint-stained fingers and clothes as she kneels on the floor of her dorm with watercolor palettes; holding hands with Riley at Disney World while he and Farkle straggled behind; in the middle of biting into a sandwich while glaring at the camera with her middle finger directed at him once she realized what he was doing.

He scrolls through the videos next, until he finds the one he’s looking for. He presses play.

_“Hey, Shortstack, you need some help with that?” he says, off-camera. There’s a shuffle heard in the background until the view shifts from pitch black to focus on a blonde girl standing up on a stool, stretching on her toes to tack a painting to the wall. Light filters through the opened-windows, and paints her hair golden._

_“I’m good. Why don’t you help by shutting the fuck up?”_

_“Ouch.” His voice is amused. The camera zooms in on Maya’s head, on the tiara she’s wearing from Riley’s 18_ _th_ _birthday that she found in a box her best friend had labeled_ Essentials _. “Never really took you for a princess, princess.”_

_Maya glances down at him and clicks her tongue once she sees the camera on her. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t no princess, cowboy.” She flicks her finger on the crown Lucas is wearing. “You ain’t no prince charming, either.”_

_“Hey, I’m as charming as they come.”_

_“Sure. You know I’m not paying you to just stand there. Help me spread my shit around before my roommates come so they’ll know I already claimed it.”_

_“You’re not paying me anything.”_

_“What, my sunny personality isn’t enough?”_

_“Not in this economy.”_

_Maya jumps off the stool then and stops right in front of him. She plucks the tiara from her head and throws it on the ground. “Keep filming me. Watch what happens.”_

_“What are you gonna do from all the way down there?”_

_The last thing he sees before the video cuts out is her sharp smile, outshining the sun._

*

She wakes up three days later than when she was supposed to.

It drives him almost to the point of insanity, each day that she doesn't open her eyes. The doctors are annoyed by him, he’s sure, constantly pestering about _what’s wrong why isn’t she waking up what did you do._ When this is all over, he might send them a fruit basket.

It’s chaos, the days after they get no response. So it’s kind of funny how anti-climactic it is when she does finally open her eyes. Before she, obviously, gave him a near heart attack.

It’s just him in the room because the doctors started to allow only two visitors max at a time and it’s his and Riley’s turn. She’s out on a coffee run and he’s sitting in the chair he’d been sitting on the first day, mumbling on about how much school he’s missed and how he got a very scathing text message from his coach the other day that made him contemplate transferring schools.

He’s so caught up in his own monologue that he almost doesn’t even hear the little cough and the very rough, “Jesus, this must be what hell is like.”

Lucas snaps his head up so fast he’s almost positive the doctors would have had to wheel in another bed for him. “Maya,” he breathes, all the relief and stress and heartache releasing in one exhale. He scrambles from the seat to kneel beside her bed.

She frowns at him, blinks once. “I’m sorry. Am I supposed to know who you are?”

He freezes, his face paling. The doctors never warned him about amnesia, although he should’ve known it was a possibility. “You…you don’t remember me?”

Her eyebrows furrow, the frown lines at the corner of her mouth deepening as she rakes her eyes over him. “Are you my…nurse?”

“No.” His throat tightens, eyes growing glassy each second she stares blankly up at him. He can’t breathe knowing she really doesn’t remember him. “Maya—”

She wheezes then, and he thinks it’s supposed to be a laugh. “Oh man! I got you so good; you should’ve seen your face. You were all like—” she pauses to mimic his panic-stricken expression.

He glares at her, but the relief that she remembers him floods his system. “Fuck you. That’s not even a little bit funny. You were—I thought—oh god, I feel sick.”

She manages a smile, although it looks more like a grimace. “What’s got you so worked up, huckleberry? Nothing like a car crash and a short nap to refuel.”

He frowns at her joke, not at all amused. “Maya, you’ve been in a coma for over a week.”

“Oh.” Her smile slips and she uses her good hand to rub at her temple. “Is that why I’m so dizzy?”

“That is a factor, yes."

She tries to sit up but her bruised ribs prevent her from getting very far, so she slides back down, intending to hide her wince from pain but he sees it anyway.

“How you feeling?” he murmurs softly. He wants to take her hand in his but he’s not sure that she wouldn’t punch him in the face with her cast, just because she can.

The look she gives him in response conveys how stupid she thinks his question is. “Fuckin peachy, thanks for asking.”

Lucas sighs and lets his head fall on the bed next to her arm. He’s feeling too many things at once that it’s almost suffocating. “I—we almost lost you, Maya. Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay? I don’t know what—”

“Hey, I’m fine,” she whispers, combing her fingers through his hair. “Just a couple of bruises to put things into perspective.”

“I’m supposed to be the one comforting you right now,” he mumbles.

“Since when has our relationship ever been conventional.”

Lucas sighs and lifts his head. “I’m also supposed to be calling the nurses as soon you wake—”

“Oh my god, Maya!”

“Well, Riley is also a good alternative.”

“Dr. Harper!” she calls. “Maya’s awake!” And then she’s rushing over to her other side after hastily setting the coffee cups down, a relieved grin on her face as she stares at her best friend.

Maya smiles back. “Hey, honey.”

“Took you long enough,” she says, her hand an affectionate comfort on Maya’s forehead. “We were starting to worry.”

Maya glances back at Lucas, wipes her thumb underneath his eye and across his cheek. “I can see that. When was the last time you slept?”

“You know Lucas,” Riley says with a fond smile. “Always gotta take care of everyone. He didn’t leave the hospital the whole time, Maya. I’m pretty sure he’s been wearing those clothes for a week straight.”

“That’s a lie; you know I only have three shirts total,” he counters and then looks at Maya. “I’ve taken showers, I promise.”

“I sure hope so,” she replies with a grin and then pokes his bicep. “You were worried about me.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes. What kind of ridiculous question. “Of course I was.”

“Everybody was, Maya,” Riley adds, gesturing to the balloons and gifts accumulated in the hospital room.

Lucas has spent years studying Maya so he knows when she’s touched by sentiment, although she tries her best to hide it.

The doctor comes in then, along with her mom and Shawn, who are both crying.

She rolls her eyes at them. “Please put those away.”

Katy clicks her tongue and grabs her daughter’s hand. “We’re allowed to be happy you’re okay, Maya.”

“Just don’t do it when I’m in the room.”

“I’m just going to check your vitals, okay, Miss Hart?” the doctor says as she comes near her. “Can everyone give us a little privacy, please?” she addresses to the rest of the room.

“Do we have to?” Riley asks, and Lucas can understand her reluctance.   

“It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Lucas is hesitant to leave her side but she takes his hand and squeezes as he gets up, and it does a little to reassure him. She’s _okay._ That’s all that matters at this point, so he can loosen the heavy worry from his shoulders.

He sits with Riley outside until the doctor lets them know it’s okay to come back in, and Riley tells him she’ll give them some privacy before she steals Maya from him.

Maya’s sitting up, a pillow supporting her weight, when he comes in. She’s all scratched up, scrapes and bruises on every exposed part he can see, but she looks better. She smiles when she sees him and he almost tells her, right then.

He thinks they’ve wasted enough time.

“Doctor said I should be okay from here on out, but holy shit, they’ve got me on  _a_ _lot_ of meds. I’m gonna be  _so_ doped up. And Mom told me my car’s completely totaled? Which sucks, but I can just bum a ride off you, can’t I—”

“I love you.”

She blinks, caught off-guard. “Lucas—”

“I have since middle school.” He shakes his head then. “I mean, I’ve _liked_ you since middle school. And it’s only gotten worse since then.”

An eyebrow lifts. “You would declare your love for me by making it sound like some kind of a disease.”

“Sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

“You’ve had years to practice.”

“Can we try this again?”

She sweeps her good hand in a gesture. “Be my guest.”

He nods and takes a deep breath before turning on his heel and walking out the door. He comes back in a moment later and clears his throat, sitting down on what he now considers his chair. But he doesn’t want to talk about this while he’s seated so he stands back up.

Maya’s grinning at him, amused.

“Okay.”

“You ready now?” Maya asks, folding her hands on her lap.

His face scrunches up. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for you.”

She rolls her eyes, but sits, waiting.

He looks at her, his best friend, and finds the courage he needs in her eyes, in the strength of her grip when she takes his hand. “I love you, Maya,” Lucas says. “And I know you don’t like that mushy-gushy stuff, so I’ll keep this short.” He hesitates until she squeezes his hand impatiently. “You wanna go on a date with me sometime?”

Maya throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, okay. I think I may have some free time on my calendar for you.”

He grins stupidly at her. “Good. That’s good. But when you get outta here, you better believe I’m going to do something stupid and ridiculous to tell you how much I love you, and you’re gonna hate it.”

“Come here,” she says, fond, and pulls him down to kiss her. She tastes like antiseptic and her breath is stale, and he doesn’t ever want to let her go again. But she hisses in pain when his hand slides over her ribs, so he jumps back.

“Fuck, sorry—”

“It’s okay,” she says with a breathless laugh and pulls him back in. “We’ll just take it slow.”

He almost groans at the prospect. They’ve already wasted so much time; he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle. “How about we take it at a medium pace?”

“Hey, who’s the one who fucked us over when you chose Riley?”

Lucas backs up a bit, but Maya has a firm grip on his collar so he can’t go very far. “You told me to! It is not my fault.”

“Mm.” She tilts her head. “You could have said no. You could have fought for me.”

His eyes soften now and he ducks his head between his shoulders. “I know. I should have. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Maya says softly, chucking his chin to get him to look at her. “It’s fine. This is our chance to start over, right?”

Hope lifts the corners of his mouth into a half-smile, glistens in his eyes. “Yeah?”

She grins too, and sticks her hand out. “Hi, I’m Maya, and you’re really cute.”

*

They get it right, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the anon who sent this in over 2 years ago...im so sorry


	12. aim high, and aim true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon: Hunger Games crossover - where Lucas and Maya are tributes from the same district, Riley starts a revolution to bring them home, and they reluctantly go back to being boyfriend and the best friend. Alternatively, Lucas and Riley are tributes from the same district and Maya is from another district.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so a couple things: i havent read/watched/thought about thg in.....years, but i was going through my inbox and saw this message from like forever ago and randomly got inspired to write it, although i did take the liberty to alter it a bit. and because i havent read the series in a while, i may have butchered miss suzanne collins' verse, so sorry for that, but basically this is the setting of catching fire except they arent victors. i had so many alternate versions of how i was going to go about this AU but ultimately this is what i decided on. a little disclaimer: this is in maya's pov but riley's the mockingjay, and i really didn't feel like she belonged in district 12 so i placed her in district 5. sorry @ suzanne for changing a fundamental part of ur story but i had to and i hope it still makes sense.

_Run towards the sun_ was the last thing her mother had told her before she left. It’s ironic, Maya thinks as she’s perched on a tree branch, quietly nursing a wound on her thigh, since she hasn’t seen the sun in two days. 

There’s a boy sitting with his back to the trunk of the tree, keeping watch for any more District Ones getting brave with their machetes. He’s got a cut above his eyebrow that needs tending, rips in his jeans, a red bandana tied around his bicep where a spear meant for Maya grazed him.

Another point for irony, she thinks wryly. Out of everyone in the games, she’d never thought she’d ally herself with Lucas Friar, the boy from District 5, the boy with fire simmering in his bones. But it makes sense, considering how they’d both die for the girl with a revolution brewing in her blood. They need to be on the same side. 

She leans back and expels a breath after applying the serum her sponsor sent her. “How’s it looking out there?” she whispers down to Lucas. He’s tired, and she’s tired, but there’s no time for sleep when fighting a war, when the battle hasn’t even begun yet.

“Quiet,” he answers. Which means they have to stay on high alert and never let their guard down. It’s always the most dangerous when there’s no direct threat in your face.

Maya jumps down, leaves crunching under her feet, the burning sensation on her thigh ceding. She whips out the knife from her backpack and slides it down her boot, and a Swiss army knife up her sleeve. There’s still blood on the tip from the day before and she hears the sound of a canon replaying in the back of her head before she shakes it away. No time for remorse. She’ll revisit that when they win.

“You think Zay got away okay?” she asks once she catches him fidgeting with his hands. Blood-crusted and bruised knuckles on otherwise smooth skin.

“Last I saw he had Careers on his ass,” he replies, “but I hope so.”

That does nothing to reassure her; hope isn’t a luxury she was ever afforded. It only came in the form of a girl with sparking embers in her eyes who whispers of a rising rebellion in the name of liberation. It’d started with Riley Matthews, a volunteered District 5 tribute to replace her brother, it’s going to continue with those in the game fighting tooth and nail for her survival, and it’s going to end with Riley and Lucas on that podium proclaiming victory over the Capitol. If it costs Maya her life, then that’s the price she’ll pay.

“Riley said she’ll meet us back at the spot,” she tells him. “When the lights come up.”

“Got a couple hours until then. We should cover some ground.” He rises from his spot on the forest floor and stretches to his full height. When they’d been training, all the other tributes were secretly afraid of Lucas. Although he’s from Riley’s district, he’d had experience in masonry and his strength is unparalleled, his ability to use his own body as a weapon awe-striking. Maya had been reluctantly impressed with what she’s seen of him, had come up with a few ways she’d have to kill him, if he and Riley hadn’t come up to her and asked her to join the rebellion after witnessing her high score.

They’re silent on the way back, hyper-focused on listening to any sign of life that could endanger them. It’s only a few minutes until she hears the canons, and Maya has to close her eyes against the onslaught of emotions as it goes off _one_ _two three_ times, hoping it’s not anyone she knows. They’ve made murderers out of children, and she’s the one with blood on her hands.

***

They find Riley where she said she would be, with three other people. Zay’s here, to Maya’s relief, and she recognizes the other two to be District One and Six, Farkle and Smackle.

“They’re here to help,” Riley reassures once she sees Maya’s hesitation, especially with a District One. She doesn’t trust many people in this life, but she trusts Riley, and more recently, despite all common logic, Lucas.

The more Farkle speaks, the more Maya notices how strategic he is. He plans to win and take Riley with him, whether the rest of them get killed or not. She can appreciate that determination. This isn’t a game, but they are just pawns nonetheless. Protect the queen, that’s what her mother used to tell her when she taught her how to play chess in her spare time. She’s the most important piece, and if she’s gone, the game is over.  

There is a reason why Riley is the mockingjay, why she’s the face of the revolution. She’s the embodiment of innocence, of a naivety someone would want to protect. Riley gives the people hope where there had been none.

Next to Farkle, Smackle is muttering something about clocks that doesn’t make sense to Maya until Zay clarifies what it is. Blood rain in the first hour, acid fog in the second.

Jabberjays in the fourth. Maya remembers hearing her mother’s screams but she couldn’t get to her, she couldn’t get to her and that hurt more than the stab in her thigh even though she knew she _knew_ it wasn’t real.

“Status report,” Lucas says. “Who’s dead?”

“Tribute from District Four,” Zay answers grimly. “Darby. Didn’t even see her coming up behind me while I was grabbing some leaves. She was hiding in the water, god knows for how long. But I smelt the salt on her before she could get me.”

He’s going to have that death on his hands for the rest of his life, just like they all are. Farkle says he had to kill someone too, a District Eleven. No one knows the last death, and for a brief second Maya is glad Riley didn’t have a hand in it. She shouldn’t have to know what it’s like to have someone else’s life in your hands only to take it away.

***

Maya and Lucas go hunting for food while the rest stay with Riley. Keep the mockingjay alive at whatever cost, that’s their mantra. It’s the only thing that can matter in the arena.

She’s picking berries, making sure they’re not poisonous before wrapping them in leaves and gathering them in her backpack. “So, why me?” she asks Lucas as he scoops up water in his palms, some of it dribbling down his chin.

“What?” he responds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Why’d you guys choose me?” she asks again.

He looks at her in a way that makes her feel like he’s ripping her apart. It’s the same look he gave her when she’d caught him watching her in the training room with a bow and arrow, directly hitting the target with terrifying precision. “Because you’re good, and you’re smart.”

Maya scoffs.

“No, you are,” he insists. “You’re creative, Maya, and we need that. We need you.”

She nods. They’re all assets, each one of them. They all have their part in protecting Riley to make sure she survives until the end, while keeping her in the dark of the extent to their plan. “I only said yes ‘cause you’re cute when you try to be assertive, you know that right?”

He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Sure, okay.”

“I could kill you, all of you, and win this whole game on my own,” she says, which is as much the truth as it is a lie.

“I know you could,” he says with a grin. Everyone in the audience watching just sees two kids, flirting and picking fruit, a relief to the violence. “But you won’t.”

“No,” she agrees. Riley’s face pops up in her mind. The nation’s golden child, the Capitol’s enemy. “I won’t.”

It’s then, of course, that the relief is interrupted. A rustle in the bushes, a sneak attack in the shape of a girl with a knife around Lucas’s throat. Maya drops the berries in her hands and slips the knife from her boot faster than a blink.

“Don’t move,” Missy hisses, pressing the edge of her weapon further into Lucas’s neck until she sees red.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands if you don’t let him go,” Maya snaps. It’s only been a few hours since they’ve seen her kill anyone, the audience finally have a show. A reason to sit at the edge of their seats, spectating on who the next death will be. Maya can be damn sure it won’t be Lucas.

Missy laughs, throwing her head back. “How cute, how naïve. Didn’t anyone tell you there’s no room for romance in this game? Such a shame, too,” she drawls and pinches Lucas’s cheek with her other hand. Missy’s one for the dramatics, drawing this out for suspense will probably make his death sweeter for her. “What a pretty face.”

Maya won’t stand for it. She shares a quick look with Lucas, a minuscule nod that no one would be able to catch, before she grabs a few berries sitting on the ground and throws them at Missy’s face. It only gives them less than a second, but Lucas manages to elbow her in the stomach and punch her in the nose before Maya lunges in with her knife. She closes her eyes as she does so, so she doesn’t have to see Missy’s open mouth, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her body hits the ground with a thump and Maya takes a few moments to collect herself before she turns to Lucas.

“Time to go,” she tells him, grabbing her bag from the ground and pushing past him, squaring her shoulders and bracing for another canon shot like it’s another tally mark branded onto her back. “There’s probably others near by. We can’t get distracted again.”

He catches up with her, hand on her shoulder. “Maya, hey—thanks. You just saved my life.”

She gives him a sidelong glance and shrugs him off. “Just doing my job, huckleberry. We need that pretty face alive.”

***

The interviews were their chance to gain sympathy from the audience, from sponsors, in hopes of extending their death sentence just a little longer. And it worked, for the most part. Maya had worn a blue dress that shimmered in the light, and it was the first and last time she’d ever felt like a princess, like royalty, and she charmed the crowd with her wit and snarky attitude that subtly challenged the game-makers underneath its surface.

But it was Riley and Lucas who were the showstoppers. He came out first, a black suit with a red tie, as handsome as ever. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience after he’d been done talking, pulling at their heartstrings one bullshit lie after another.

And then Riley came out, in a flaming red dress, and twirled around for everyone to see, with that light and innocence on her face as if she was a 16 year old girl going to the dance with a boy she has a crush on and not a kid preparing for battle. There was a broach attached to her dress, the symbol of their rebellion, of the Capitol’s failure. It was slap to their face and they all knew it, but she twirled and she twirled on that stage and the people cheered. They’re rooting for her.

At the end, all of the tributes were called back on stage and there, they stood hand-in-hand, frightened children no older than seventeen declaring war on their dictators. Of course, in less than 24 hours they were going to have to slit each other’s throats, but for that moment they stand tall, and they stand together.

 

When she and Lucas meet up with the rest of the group, Riley is fighting back tears, blood on her hands, staining her clothes. She’s saying words that sound like _Farkle is dead_ and  _I had to do it, she was going to kill me next_ but Maya doesn’t register it. Just holds her, muffles her screams into her shoulder until she has to pull herself together, because the mockingjay is not weak. Because there are still three tributes out there, and they have work to do, and his death won’t be the last.

Smackle sets up a few traps near their campsite while Riley digs a space in the earth for Farkle, decorating it with flowers, even though they’re just going to take his body anyway. Maya’s sitting with her back against the edge of their cave, sharpening her knife, when Lucas drops next to her.

“You know what you have to do if we can’t pull this off in time,” she reminds him, because his face had been too open and too hopeful around her.

He frowns then. “It won’t come to that. I won’t let it—Riley wouldn't, either.”

She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You know what you agreed to. We can’t let them catch on.”

“Maya—“

“Promise me,” she insists, gritting her teeth. “Promise me, if it comes down to me and Riley, you’ll choose Riley.”

He hesitates, and that’s enough to tell Maya he’s too soft for this game. If he can’t make the decision, it’ll get them all killed, and this will have been for nothing.

“Lucas, if anything happens to Riley, this will—“

“I know, okay, I _know._ ” He’s frustrated, at her, at himself, at this whole situation. If they’d been normal teenagers in a different, normal world maybe the most dramatic thing they’d have to deal with is two girls liking one boy and that boy not being able to choose. But this isn’t that world and they aren’t normal teenagers. “But, Maya—“

“Don’t,” she gets up from her seat and he tips his head back to watch her. He looks torn up inside. “I’ll go hunting by myself today.”

“Absolutely fucking not—“

“Fine. I’ll take Zay,” she acquiesces because she doesn’t feel like a fight. “But you stay with Riley.”

He doesn’t argue but he makes her take his bottle of water to refill and when their fingers brush she doesn’t imagine that world where they’d have a chance of a happy ending. It’s not going to get her anywhere.

“So what’s with you and lover boy anyway?” Zay asks once they’re free. He doesn’t do anything to lower his voice and that’s the problem with Zay. He’s reckless and loud, and he’s going to attract other kids fighting for survival but the thing is Maya doesn’t care at this point. She’s prepared for a fight, to bring an end to all of this, to bring them closer to home.

“Nothing that concerns you or anyone else,” she tells him.

He points up, to the people watching them. “Think they would disagree.”

“Well, tough shit.”

“I’m rooting for you crazy kids,” he continues conversationally, pushing aside a swaying tree branch. “Nothing like a good love story to give the people something to hope for.”

Maya snorts. “That is so not what this is.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

She thinks of Riley, how her love for the girl is the only thing pushing her to keep going to the end. How her love for Lucas, and Zay, and Smackle are the only things pushing her to ensure their safety, even if it means sacrificing herself.

“There’s no place for that here,” she mumbles, not even believing her own half-hearted lie.

She’s so distracted by her own thoughts and Zay’s useless commentary on end of the world love confessions that she almost misses the sound of rushing water. Her feet stop immediately, has to calm the stampede of her heart beating to hear clearer. She can’t remember all the wedges of the clock and what they held but she’s sure it’s not good.

“Zay, we have to go.”

“What? But we still have to talk about what you’re going to do with this crazy stupid tension between you and the cowboy—“

“Unless that’s the last thing you ever want to talk about, we don’t have time for that.” She grabs his hand and pulls him the way they came from. “Hurry the hell up!”

They run until Maya’s legs go numb, and they don’t look back. The wave misses them by the literal hair on the back of her neck and they collapse on the beach sand with shaking limbs and short breaths.

“Man,” Zay breathes after a long moment. She’s so tired she almost suggest sleeping right here. “Dying is definitely not on my to-do list.”

There’s the too familiar boom of a canon ringing in the air.

They look at each other. Two to go.

***

She doesn’t sleep.

She volunteers herself for guard duty, standing watch in the dark while everyone pretends to get any themselves.

But she does cry, though. It’s hard not to, because as much as Maya can act brave, like none of this fazes her, she has one fatal flaw that can get you killed in this type of war: she cares too much.

No matter how nasty the careers are, how privileged, Missy Bradford and Billy Ross are not going back home to their parents because of her. People have lost their children because of her. All because of what they made her do. It’s not fair, for anyone, but especially to those that lost. The Capitol likes to pretend that there’s a winner in every game, but there never is, not after what they’ve had to do to get there.

Every time Maya closes her eyes she sees blood that’s not hers on her hands, and she imagines what her mother must think of her now. Can’t imagine it’d be half as bad as what she thinks of herself.

Thor comes at a perfect time, if she’s being honest. There’s an unnatural crunch like the sound of a heavy shoe stepping on a thin tree branch, that puts a stop to her pity party. She whips out the Swiss army knife from her sleeve and jumps up.

He’s smiling at her.

“Gotta be stealthier than that, dude,” she says with a click of her tongue in mock disappointment.

“Thought I’d have an advantage,” he replies, rubbing the edge of his eyebrow with his thumb, “what with you wiping snot all over your shirt, I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Your first mistake.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He’s twirling his axe like it weighs nothing and she catches herself being a little scared. He’s so much bigger than she is, has had so much more time to prepare for this than she has. That’s never stopped her before, but it feels different, this time. “We both know how this ends.”

Maya crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh? Please enlighten me, then.”

“I kill you,” he continues. “And then all your little friends. Don’t think we haven’t noticed your goddamn joke of an alliance.” He shrugs carelessly. “Makes it easier on me, though, so I guess I should thank you for that.”

“Well, you can shove that gratitude up your ass,” she says with a scoff and holds up her knife until it’s level with his chin. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

Thor laughs like she’s said the world’s funniest joke. “You really think you have a chance? That’s a lot of confidence for such a little thing.”

“I have a lot of blood on my hands,” she spits. “What’s one more to add to the body count?”

He looks her over then, something changing in his eyes. “Interesting.” He leans his weight against his axe, casual, like they’re discussing bean dip recipes. “How about a deal?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Be my ally,” he proposes. “And we’ll win. There’s no chance that we won’t. All you have to do is turn around, kill them in their sleep, and—“ he snaps his fingers “—boom. We’re there.”

“I’d rather kill you instead.”

His eyes harden, all pretenses gone. “Don’t be an idiot; there’s only one winner here, you know that. You’re gonna have to kill them sooner or later, so just make it easier for everyone and kill them now.”

She grins then, slow, almost feral. “There is so much going on that you know nothing about.” She tsks, pouts. “If only you could’ve survived to see the end of it.”

The knife goes right through his left eye before he even blinks, his knees hitting the ground with a soft thud. She uses his own axe against him and she doesn’t think of the irony until she’s walking back, the metal bulk carving a path in the dirt as she drags it heavily behind her. She’s thinking she’s gotten too good at this killing thing. She didn’t feel a damn thing.

***

Maya’s washing the blood from underneath her fingernails in the ocean when Riley sits next to her. She still looks like the perfect princess, so put together, even with dirt in her hair and dried blood on her sleeves.

A little sad, too. Especially when she says, “You’ve been keeping count?”

The marks on her arms are going to scar, but she can’t be bothered to care. Maya pulls her sleeves down. “It’s the least I can do,” she grumbles.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t—“

“You’re doing a good thing, Riles,” she interjects, even if Riley can't realize just how significant she is to this game. “This is just a casualty of war. I believe in you.”

“Sometimes I think you’re the only one,” she says with a small smile.

“You’ve got the whole world behind your back,” Maya tells her, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Everyone here would die for you.”

She frowns. “I never wanted that.”

“That’s the only way,” Maya says. Her first kill had been from her own district because he didn’t believe in Riley, in the mockingjay, and would’ve killed her if Maya didn’t do anything about it. She has to see the look of betrayal on his face when he realized she poisoned his water every time she closes her eyes. The lengths she’d proven to go for this scares her sometimes.

Riley’s eyes catch on something behind her and she sighs, standing up. “He’s been waiting for you.”

Maya looks up to see Lucas leaning against a tree as he watches them, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest.

“Do you love him?” Riley asks. When Maya looks at her, she doesn’t look betrayed, or angry. She knows Riley and Lucas used to be something back in their district. But she just looks concerned, and somehow, that’s even worse.

“Like I’ve been saying to literally everyone,” Maya responds with a little more hostility than absolutely necessary, shooting up her from seat on the sand to make her way towards the cowboy. “There’s no such thing in these kinds of games.”

Riley just lifts an eyebrow like she’s not fooling anyone, and says, “You didn’t answer my question.”

***

A lightening storm strikes the tree just in time for Riley to break through the force field, arrow in her hand. The world explodes in fire and collapses in ashes, and the only thing left is to run. The sun peeks through the cracks and Maya almost cries, almost laughs, her mother’s voice in her head.

 _Run towards the sun,_ she’d told her.  _Don’t look back._

There’s so much yelling and falling trees they have to jump over, and Maya refuses to let go of Riley’s hand until she knows she’s safe on that hovercraft.

In retrospect, Maya can hardly remember the period of time between when the arrow hit the edge of the sky and when they got onto the hovercraft, fear and adrenaline reducing everything to just jagged fragments of memory. She thinks she remembers Zay going back for Smackle, a canon booming in the distance she doesn't let herself think about, remembers Mr. Feeney pulling her and Riley in. And she remembers Lucas being right behind her, but when she looked back, there was nothing but firebombs and a burning wreckage — _god_ , _where the fuck is he_ —

***

Shawn fills her in on the helicopter ride. Says something about District Thirteen, reminders on how they’re not finished yet, the war isn’t over, and they’re still child soldiers. Maya doesn’t care much about that yet, she’ll feel that sense of overwhelming responsibility after she makes sure her friends are okay, because after all this she’s going to make damn sure they win.

“Maya…”

“God, Shawn, if you’re gonna tell me the bad news just spit it out, please.”

“They took Zay and Smackle—the Capitol took them once they found out what was going on, but we’re gonna get them back, I promise,” he assures, the most intense she’s ever seen him in her life. “Riley’s here. She’s safe; you can see her later, she’s been asking for you. You did good. You did good, Maya, remember that.”

She nods, but she can tell there’s still more he hasn’t said.

“Spill it, Hunter.”

“District Twelve…” his voice wavers, has to clear his throat before continuing, “Maya, it’s gone.”

Her eyes shut with the force of all the questions burning inside her throat. Where’s her mom? Is she okay? And what about Riley’s district? Does she know now? About her place in all this? Does she hate them?

She’s almost afraid to ask this, but—“And Lucas? Is Lucas…”

There’s a subtle expression on his face that can be almost labeled as smug, but he’s smarter than that and knows that Maya would beat him up for it. “He’s here, he’s fine. Got a couple wounds the nurse is checking on but he’s gonna—“

She’s out the door before he can finish his sentence. Maya finds him sitting on a cot in the infirmary looking a little roughened up. But it’s a good look on him, if she’s being totally honest. He brightens up when he sees her, a strong relief that sways him a little he has to settle his weight on the palm of his hand.

“Maya—thank god—“

She marches over to him before she can talk herself out of it, wraps him up in her arms, and it’s so crazy how they’re in the middle of fighting a war, in the middle of trying to overthrow a government with a president that will stop at nothing to have them killed, but she still feels more hopeful than she ever has, here. She buries her nose in the crook of his neck, and he smells like fire and blood, and he feels like safety.

She might even love him, a little.

So she doesn’t have a home anymore, and Riley might hate them for not letting her in on the entire plan, and there is a good chance they might die before this thing ends, but—this is enough. Right now, this has to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could've been longer but i have absolutely zero patience lmao


End file.
